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mm 




HARVARD 
COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 



^ 



THE 



.V/O JbPIES 



BEN30NJ.L0SSINt 




HALI'r BlBTKPt,ACE. 



THE TWO SPIES 



NATHAN HALE AND JOHN ANDRfi 



BY 

BENSON J. LOSSING, LL. D. 



ILLUSTRA TED WITH PEN-AND-INK SKETCHES BY H ROSA 



ANNA SEWARDS MONODY ON MAJOR ANDRfe 



NEW YORK 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

Z, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET 
1886 



CONTENTS. 



NATHAN HALE. 
CHAPTER I. 

PAOB 

Hale's Birthplace and Parentage. — The Hale Family . . .3 

Hale's Youthhood and Education 4 

Dr. Munson's Recollections of him 5 

Hale at Yale College and as a School-teacher 7 

Patriotism of 8, 9 

His Military Career at Boston and New York 9-12 

CHAPTER II. 

The American Army at New York 12,13 

A Man for Secret Service sought 18 

Hale's Idea of the Service ; he volunteers 14 

His Career as a Spy ......... 1 5-20 

His Arrest 17 

Taken to General Howe's Headquarters 19 

Sentenced to be hanged without Trial. — Great Fire in New York . . 20 

CHAPTER III. 

Hale at the Place of Execution 21 

Cruelly treated by Cunningham, the Provost-Marshal .22 

His Last Words •23 

Sympathy expressed ; his Execution .24 

Monumental Memorials of Hale 25-27 

Literary Contributions to his Memory 27-31 

Tribute to Hale by Henry J. Raymond . ... . .31 

Proposed Monument in Memory of Hale at New York . . . '33 
Proposed Epitaph 34 



viii CONTENTS. 

JOHN ANDRfe. 
CHAPTER I. 

PAOB 

Andre's Birth, Parentage, Education, and Family 37 

His Acquaintance with Anna Seward and her Literary Friends . 38 

His Betrothal to Honora Sneyd 40 

His Correspondence with Miss Seward . . . '41 

Enters the Army 42 

Presaging Omens 42, 43 

Andr^ goes to America . . , . -43 

Made a Prisoner 44 

At Philadelphia — his Accomplishments and Captivating Manners . • 4S 
Lord Howe entertained . . . . '4$ 

CHAPTER IL 
The Mischianza described by Andr^ 4^S9 

CHAPTER in. 

The Mischianza and the Character of General Howe criticised 59, 60 

The British fly from Philadelphia toward New York, General Clinton in 

Command. — Battle of Monmouth 60 

Expedition to Rhode Island 61 

Andre's Genius and Social Position 62 

His Letter to Benedict Arnold's Wife 63 

Arnold's Career in Philadelphia 63* ^ 

His Treasonable Correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton and Andr6 64, 65 

Andr^ a Spy in Charleston 66 

Arnold's Premeditated Treason.— Occasion of " The Cow-Chase " . .67 

CHAPTER IV. 
" The Cow-Chase " . ' 68 

CHAPTER V. 

Gloomy State of Public Affairs.— Proposed Personal Meeting between 

Arnold and Andr6 79 

Arrangements for such a Meeting 79» 80 

Andr6 at a Dinner-Party 80, 81 

Goes to meet General Arnold 81 

The Meeting 81, 82 

They go to Smith's House 83 



CONTENTS. ix 

PAGE 

The Terms of Treasonable Service agreed upon. — Andr^ compelled to 

attempt a Return to New York by Land .... ^ . 84 
Receives Papers from Arnold. — His Journey. — The Neutral Ground . 85 

Andr^ arrested .86 

Patriotism of his Captors 88 

Their Reward 89 

Andr6 discovered to be a Spy 90 

His Confession 91 

His Letter to Washington 9i~93 

CHAPTER VL 

Washington returns from Hartford at a Critical Moment. — Arnold re- 
ceives Notice of Andr6's Arrest 93 

Painful Interview with his Wife. — He escapes to the Vulture . ' 9A 

Washington at Arnold's Quarters. — Discovers Arnold's Treason. — His 

Calmness and Tenderness 96 

Andr6 brought to Arnold's Quarters and sent to General Greene at 

Tappaan 97 

His Free Conversation with Major Tallmadg^e 98 

Effects of the News of his Capture 99 

Tried by a Board of Officers and condemned as a Spy .... 100 

Efforts to save him loi 

His Choice of the Mode of Death 102 

His Execution 103-105 

CHAPTER Vn. 

Almost Universal Sympathy felt for Andr^ 105, 106 

Honored by his King 106 

A Monument to his Memory in Westminster Abbey, described . 106-108 

Andre's Remains removed to the Abbey 108 

Memorials to mark the Place of his Execution .... 109-1 1 5 
Memorial-Stone erected by Mr. Field at Tappaan ... .1 lo-i 1 5 

Mr. Field's Generous Proposition 110,114,118 

Attempts to destroy the Field Memorial at Tappaan . 117, 118 

An Indignation Meeting at Tappaan 119 

A Monument to mark the Place where Andr^ was captured at Tarry- 
town 119-121 

Biographical Sketch of Anna Seward 125 

Monody on Major Andr& 135 

Andre's Letters to Miss Seward 152 

Index 165 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PACK 

Nathan Hale's Birthplace FrvnHspUee 

Fac-simile op Hale's Handwriting 6 

Union Grammar School-house at New London 8 

The Beekman Mansion i8 

Beekman's Greenhouse 19 

Cunningham destroying Hale's Letters 22 

The Hale Monument at Coventry 26 

Portrait of John AndrI face 37 

Portrait of Honora Sneyd 39 

The MiscHiANZA Ticket ^ 47 

Lady's Head-Dress 48 

The Joust at the Tournament 52 

Fac-simile op Arnold's disguised Handwriting 65 

Fac-simile op ANDRi's disguised Handwriting 65 

Fac-simile op the Last Stanza of the Cow-Chase .... 78 

The Smith House 82 

Fas-simile of Arnold's Passport 87 

Portrait of John Paulding 89 

The Robinson House 95 

" The '76 Stone House ' 97 

Washington's Headquarters at Tappaan ...... 100 

Passage from the Vulture 104 

ANDRi's Monument in Westminster Abbey 107 

Bowlder-Monument 109 

Dean Stanley's Autograph 112 

Memorial at Tappaan 116 

Memorial at Tarrytown lao 

Portrait op Anna Seward fate 125 




NATHAN HALE 




eP(/htjL/ /#/ 



NATHAN HALE. 



CHAPTER I. 

In a picturesque region of Tolland County, Connecticut, 
twenty miles eastward of Hartford, situated upon an emi- 
nence which commands a beautiful and extensive prospect 
westward toward the State capital, there once stood, and 
perhaps now stands, a pleasant farm-house, built of wood, 
and two stories in height.* In that house, on the 6th of 
June, 1755, a child was born whose name appears con- 
spicuous in our national history. It was a boy, and one 
of twelve children, whose father, Richard Hale, had emi- 
grated in early life from Newberry, in Massachusetts, to 
Coventry, and there married Elizabeth Strong, a charming 
maiden eighteen years of age. He was a descendant of 
Robert Hale, or Hales, who settled in Charlestown, in 1632, 
and who seems to have been a scion of the Hales of Kent, 
for he bore their coat-of-arros — three broad arrows feath- 
ered white, on a red field. 

Both Richard and Elizabeth Hale were of the strictest 
sect of the Puritans of their day. They revered the Bible 

* See the frontispiece, copied from a drawing by J. W. Barber, of New Haven, 
in x84a 

2 



4 THE TWO SPIES. 

as the voice of God; reverenced magistrates and gospel 
ministers as his chosen servants ; regarded the strict observ- 
ance of the Christian Sabbath as a binding obligation, and 
family worship and grace before meals as imperative duties 
and precious privileges. 

The sixth child of Richard and Elizabeth Hale they 
named Nathan. He was feeble in body at the beginning 
of his life, and gave very little promise of surviving the 
period of infancy; but tender motherly care carried him 
safely over the critical second year, and he became a robust 
child, physically and mentally. He grew up a lively, sweet- 
tempered, and beautiful youth ; and these qualities marked 
his young manhood. 

Nathan Hale, the disting^uished person alluded to, bright 
and active, loved out-of-door pastimes, and communing with 
Nature everywhere. He was conspicuous among his com- 
panions for remarkable athletism. He would spring, with 
apparent ease, out of one hogshead into another, through a 
series ; and he would place his hand upon a fence as high as 
his head, and spring over it at a bound with apparently little 
effort. 

Having an intense thirst for knowledge, young Hale was 
very studious. His father designed him for the Christian 
ministry, and he was fitted for college by the Rev. Dr. 
Huntington, one of the most eminent Congregational di- 
vines and scholars of his day, and then the pastor of the 
parish in which Nathan was born. 

Young Hale entered Yale College when in the sixteenth 
year of his age. His brother Enoch, the grandfather of 
Rev. Edward Everett Hale, of Boston, and two years the 
senior of Nathan, entered Yale at the same time. The 
students then numbered about sixty. His course of col- 



NATHAN HALE. 5 

lege-Iife was eminently praiseworthy ; and he was gradu- 
ated with the highest honors in September, 1773. Popu- 
lar with all the students, the tutors, and the faculty, he 
was always a welcome visitor in the best families of New 
Haven. 

In the autumn of 1848 I visited the venerable Eneas 
Munson, M. D., at New Haven, He had been assistant sur- 
geon, under Dr. Thatcher, in the old War for Independence. 
He knew young Hale well during the later period of his life 
at Yale College, for he was then a frequent visitor at the 
home of Dr. Munson's father. 

"I was greatly impressed," said Dr. Munson, "with 
Hale's scientific knowledge, evinced during his conversation 
with my father. I am sure he was equal to Andr6 in solid 
acquirements, and his taste for art and talents as an artist 
were quite remarkable. His personal appearance was as 
notable. He was almost six feet in height, perfectly propor- 
tioned, and in figure and deportment he was the most manly 
man I have ever met. His chest was broad ; his muscles 
were firm ; his face wore a most benign expression ; his com- 
plexion was roseate ; his eyes were light blue and beamed 
with intelligence ; his hair was soft and light brown in 
color, and his speech was rather low, sweet, and musical, 
His personal beauty and grace of manner were most charm- 
ing. Why, all the girls in New Haven fell in love with 
him," said Dr. Munson, "and wept tears of real sorrow 
when they heard of his sad fate. In dress he was always 
neat ; he was quick to lend a helping hand to a being in dis- 
tress, brute or human ; was overflowing with good-humor, 
and was the idol of all his acquaintances." 

Such was the verbal testimony of a personal acquaint- 
ance of Nathan Hale as to his appearance and character 




THE TWO SPIES. 



when he left Yale College.* Dr. Jared Sparks, who knew 
several of Hale's intimate friends, writes of him : 




Fac-similb op Hale's HAND-WRimio. 



« 



Possessing genius, taste, and order, he became distin- 
guished as a scholar ; and, endowed in an eminent degree 
with those graces and gifts of Nature which add a charm to 
youthful excellence, he gained universal esteem and confi- 
dence. To high moral worth and irreproachable habits 
were joined gentleness of manner, an ingenuous disposition, 

* Dr. Munson allowed me to read the following letter written by Hale to his 

father, from New London* late in September, 1774, and to make a fac-nmiU of 

the last paragraph as seen above : 

** New LoiTDOH, November 30, 1774. 

" Sir : I am very happily situated here. I love my employment ; find many 
friends among strangers ; have time for scientific study, and leem to fill the place 
assigned me with satisfaction. I have a school of more than thirty boys to instruct, 
about half of them in Latin ; and my salary is satis&ctory. During the summer I 
had a morning class of young ladies— «bout a score — from five to seven o'clock ; ko 
you see my time is pretty fully occupied, profitably I hope to my pupils and to 
their teacher. 

" Please accept for yourself and Mrs. Munson the grateful thanks of one who 
will always remember the kindness he ever experienced whenever he visited your 
abode. Your friend, Nathan Hale." 



NATHAN HALE. 7 

and vigor of understanding. No young man of his years 
put forth a fairer promise of future usefulness and celebrity ; 
the fortunes of none were fostered more sincerely by the 
generous good wishes of his associates, and the hopes and 
encouraging presages of his superiors." 

Among Hale's classmates was (afterward Major) Benja- 
min Tallmadge, who had charge of Andr6 soon after his 
arrest. With William Robinson and Ezra Samson he was 
engaged with Hale at their graduation, in a Latin syllogis- 
tic dispute, followed by a debate on the question, " Whether 
the education of daughters be not, without any just reason, 
more neglected than that of the sons?" 

" In this debate Hale was triumphant," wrote James Hill- 
house, another of his classmates, who was a few months his 
junior. " He was the champion of ' The Daughters,* and 
most ably advocated their cause. You may be sure that he 
received the plaudits of the ladies present." 

On leaving college. Hale engaged in school-teaching for 
nearly two years. He first taught a select school at East 
Haddam, on the left bank of the Connecticut River, then a 
place of much wealth. 

In 1774 he was called to the position of preceptor in the 
Union Grammar-School at New London, an institution of 
high grade, intended to furnish facilities for a thorough Eng- 
lish education and the classical preparation necessary for 
entering college. The school-building stood on State Street. 
Young Hale was appointed its first preceptor after its or- 
ganization. It was a high compliment to his ability. 

Hale's connection with this school was most agreeable. 
Everybody became warmly attached to him. His life moved 
on in a placid current, with scarcely a ripple upon its sur- 
face. He assiduously cultivated science and letters, moved 



8 THE TWO SPIES. 

ia the most refined society, and engaged in social pleasures 
and religious repose. His future appeared full of joyful 
promises. 




*^^*fe5=. 



UmoN Grammar School-hodsk at New Lohdoh. 



Suddenly war's dlarms dispelled Hale's dream of quiet 
happiness. The news of the bloodshed at Lexington and 
Concord aroused the continent — New England in a special 
manner. A messenger, riding express with the news, be- 
tween Boston and New York, brought it to New London 
late on the 21st of April. It created intense excitement. A 
town meeting was called at the court-house at twilight. 
Among the speakers present whose words fired the hearts 
of the eager listeners was Nathan Hale. With impassioned 
language and intense earnestness he exhorted the people to 
take patriotic action at once. " Let us march immediately," 
he cried, " and never lay down our arms until we have ob- 
tained our independence!" This was the first public de- 
mand for independence made at the beginning of the great 
struggle. 



NATHAN HALE. g 

When the meeting adjourned. Hale, with others, enrolled 
himself as a volunteer. A company was soon formed. On 
the following morning when the school assembled, he prayed 
with his pupils, gave them good advice, bade each one of 
them an affectionate farewell, and soon afterward departed 
for Cambridge. He returned and resumed his duties at 
the school, but it was not long before his intense desire to 
serve his country caused him to enlist as a lieutenant of 
a company in Colonel Charles Webb's regiment — a body 
raised by order of the General Assembly for home de- 
fense, or, if necessary, for the protection of the country 
at large. 

Late in September Hale marched with his regiment to 
Cambridge, and participated in the siege of Boston. He 
received the commission of captain early in January, and 
was vigilant and brave at all times. The British were driven 
from the New England capital in March (1776), and sailed 
away to Halifax with a host of Tories, who fled from the 
wrath of the Whigs whom they had oppressed. After the 
British left Boston, the bulk of the American army pro- 
ceeded to New York. So earnest and unselfish was Hale's 
patriotism that, when, late in 1775, the men of his company, 
whose term of service had expired, determined to return 
home, he offered to give them his month's pay if they would 
remain so much longer. 

Soon after Hale's arrival at New York, he successfully 
performed a daring feat. A British sloop, laden with pro- 
visions, was anchored in the East River under the protec- 
tion of the guns of the man-of-war Asia sixty-four. General 
Heath gave Hale permission to attempt the capture of the 
supply-vessel. With a few picked men (probably of Glov- 
er's brigade, who were largely seamen), as resolute as him- 



lO THE TWO SPIES. 

self, he proceeded in ^ whale-boat silently at midnight to the 
side of the sloop, unobserved by the sentinel on the deck. 
Hale and his men sprang on board, secured the sentinel, 
confined the crew below the hatches, raised her anchor, 
and took her into Coenties Slip just at the dawn of day. 
Captain Hale was at the helm. The victors were greeted 
with loud huzzas from a score of voices when the sloop 
touched the wharf. The stores of provisions of the prize- 
vessel were distributed among Hale's hungry fellow-sol- 
diers. 

We have no information concerning Hale's movements 
from the time of his capture of the supply-vessel until after 
the battle of Long Island. He became captain of a company 
of Connecticut Rangers in May — a corps composed of choice 
men picked from the different Connecticut regiments, and 
placed under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas 
Knowlton, who had distinguished himself in the battle of 
Bunker's (Breed's) Hill. They were known as " Congress's 
Own." 

In two or three letters written by Hale to his brothers in 
the earlier part of the summer, he mentions some hostile 
movements, but there are no indications that he was en- 
gaged in any of them. He seems not to have been in the 
battle of Long Island or a participant in the famous retreat 
of Washington across the East River, from Brooklyn, at the 
close of August He was among the troops that remained 
in New York when the British invaded Long Island (for he 
was sick at that time), and joined the retreating forces in 
their march toward Harlem Heights early in September. 
He first appears after that movement in the presence of 
Washington, at the house of the opulent Quaker merchant, 
Robert Murray, on Murray Hill, to receive instructions for 



NATHAN HALE. \\ 

the performance of an important mission. What was the 
nature of that mission ? Let us see : 

The American army on Manhattan Island was in a most 
perilous condition after the retreat from Long Island. It 
was fearfully demoralized, and seemed to be on the point ot 
dissolution. Despair had taken possession of the minds of 
the militia. They deserted by companies and even by regi- 
ments. Impatient of restraint, insubordination everywhere 
prevailed. The soldiers clamored for pay ; the money-chest 
was empty. They clamored for clothing and blankets, as 
cold weather was approaching ; the commissary could not 
respond. One third of the men were without tents, and one 
fourth of them were on the sick-roll. Only fourteen thou- 
sand men were fit for duty, and these were scattered in de- 
tachments lying between each extremity of the island, a dis- 
tance of a (jozen miles or more. 

The British army was then twenty-five thousand strong, 
and lay in compact detachments along the shores of New 
York Bay and the East River, from (present) Greenwood 
Cemetery to Flushing and beyond. The soldiers were vet- 
erans, and were flushed with the recent victory. They were 
commanded by able generals. The army was supported by 
a powerful naval force which studded with armed vessels 
the waters that clasped Manhattan Island. Each arm of the 
service was magnificently equipped with artillery, stores, 
and munitions of war of every kind. 

Such was the condition and relative position of the two 
armies when, on the 7th of September, Washington called a 
council of war to consider the important questions. What ^^ 
shall be done ? Shall we defend or abandon New York ? 

Washington had already asked Congress, " If we should 
be obliged to abandon the town, ought it to stand as winter- 



12 THE TWO SPIES. 

quarters for the enemy ? " He was answered by a resolve 
that, in case he should find it necessary that he should quit 
New York, he should '' have special care taken that no dam- 
age be done to the city, Congress having no doubt of their 
being able to recover it." It was resolved to remain and 
defend the city. 



CHAPTER II. 

Perils were gathering thick and fast, and at another 
council, held on the 12th, it was resolved to abandon the 
city and take a position on Harlem Heights. The sick were 
sent over to New Jersey, and the public stores were taken 
to Dobb's Ferry, twenty miles up the Hudson River. Then 
the main army moved northward, leaving in the city a 
guard of four thousand men under General Putnam, with 
orders to follow if necessary. 

Washington made his headquarters at the house of Rob- 
ert Murray on the 14th. The position of the American 
army now appeared more perilous than ever. Two ships- 
of-war had passed up the East River. Others soon followed. 
Scouts reported active movenients among the British troops 
everywhere, but could not penetrate, even by reasonable 
conjecture, the designs of the enemy. It was of the utmost 
importance to know something of their real intentions. 
Washington wrote to General Heath, then stationed at 
Kingsbridge : 

" As everything, in a manner, depends upon obtaining in- 
telligence of the enemy's motions, I do most earnestly en- 
treat you and General Clinton to exert yourselves to accom- 
plish this most desirable end. Leave no stone unturned, nor 



NATHAN HALE. 13 

do not stick at expense, to bring this to pass, as I was never 
more uneasy than on account of my want of knowledge on 
this score. Keep constant lookout, with good glasses, on 
some commanding heights that look well on to the other 
shore." 

The vital questions pressing for answer were. Will they 
make a direct attack upon the city ? Will they land upon 
the island, above the city, or at Morrisania beyond the Har- 
lem River ? Will they attempt to cut off our communica- 
tions with the main, by seizing the region along the Harlem 
River or at Kingsbridge, by landing forces on the shores of 
the East and Hudson Rivers, at Turtle Bay, or at Blooming- 
dale, and, stretching a cordon of armed men from river to 
river, cut off the four thousand troops left in the city ? 

Washington, in his perplexity, called another council of 
war at Murray's. He told his officers that he could not 
procure the least information concerning the intentions of 
the enemy, and asked the usual question of late. What shall 
be done ? It was resolved to send a competent person, in 
disguise, into the British camps on Long Island to unveil 
the momentous secret. It needed one skilled in military 
and scientific knowledge and a good draughtsman ; a man 
possessed of a quick eye, a cool head, unflinching courage ; 
tact, caution, and sagacity — a man on whose judgment and 
fidelity implicit reliance might be placed. 

Washington sent for Lieutenant-Colonel Knowlton and 
asked him to seek for a trustful man for the service, in his 
own noted regiment or in some other. Knowlton summoned 
a large number of officers to a conference at his quarters, 
and, in the name of the commander-in-chief, invited a volun- 
teer for the important service. They were surprised. There 
was a long pause. Patriotism, ambition, a love of advent- 



14 



THE TWO SPIES. 



ure, and indig^tion, alternately took possession of their 
feelings. It was an invitation to serve their country su- 
premely by becoming a spy — a character upon whom all 
civilized nations place the ban of scorn and contumely! 
They recoiled from suph a service, and there was a general 
and even resentful refusal to comply with the request 

Late in the conference, when Knowlton had despaired of 
finding a man competent and willing to undertake the peril- 
ous mission, a young officer appeared, pale from the effects 
of recent severe sickness. Knowlton repeated the invita- 
tion, when, almost immediately, the voice of the young sol- 
dier was heard uttering the momentous words, " I will un- 
dertake it ! " It was the voice of Captain Nathan Hale. 

Everybody was astonished. The whole company knew 
Hale. They loved and admired him. They tried to dis- 
suade him from his decision, setting forth the risk of sacri- 
ficing all his good prospects in life and the fond hopes of his 
parents and friends. They painted in darkest colors the igno- 
miny and death to which he might be exposed. His warmly 
attached friend, William Hull (afterward a general in the 
War of 1 812), who was a member of his company and had 
been a classmate at college, employed all the force of 
friendship and the arts of persuasion to bend him from his 
purpose, but in vain. With warmth and decision Hale 
said : 

" Gentlemen, I think I owe to my country the accom- 
plishment of an object so important and so much desired 
by the commander of her armies, and I know no mode of 
obtaining the information but by assuming a disguise and 
passing into the enemy's camp. I am fully sensible of the 
consequences of discovery and capture in such a situation. 
But for a year I have been attached to the army, and have 



NATHAN HALE. 15 

not rendered any material service, while receiving a com- 
pensation for which I make no return. Yet I am not influ- 
enced by any expectation of promotion or pecuniary reward. 
I wish to be useful ; and every kind of service necessary for the 
public good becomes honorable by being necessary. If the exigen- 
cies of my country demand a peculiar service, its claims to 
(he performance of that service are imperious.'* 

These manly, wise, and patriotic words — this willingness 
to sacrifice himself, if necessary,, for the good of his country 
— silenced his brother officers. Accompanied by Knowlton, 
he appeared before Washington the same afternoon, and 
received instructions concerning his mission. His com- 
mander also furnished him with a general order to the 
owners of all American vessels in Long Island Sound to 
convey him to any point on Long Island which he might 
designate. 

Hale left the camp on Harlem Heights the same evening, 
accompanied by Sergeant Stephen Hempstead, a trust- 
worthy member of his company, whom he engaged to go 
with him as far as it would be prudent. He was also accom- 
panied by his trusty servant, Ansel Wright. They found 
no safe place to cross the Sound until they arrived at Nor- 
walk, fifty miles from New York, owing to the presence of 
small British cruisers in those waters. There Hale ex- 
changed his regimentals for a citizen's dress of brown cloth 
and a broad-brimmed round hat, and directed Hempstead 
and Wright to tarry for him at Norwalk until his return, 
which he supposed would be on the 20th. He directed a 
boat to be sent for him on the morning of that day, and left 
with Hempstead his uniform and his military commission 
and other papers. 

There are somewhat conflicting accounts concerning 



l6 THE TWO SPIES. 

Hale's movements, after he left Norwalk. All agree that he 
was conveyed across the Sound to Huntington Bay, where 
he landed ; that he assumed the character of a schoolmaster 
and loyalist disgusted with the '' rebel *' cause, and that he 
professed to be in quest of an engagement as a school- 
teacher. It is known that he entered the British camps in 
personal disguise and with the pretext of loyalty and the 
character of a pedagogue ; that he was received with great 
cordiality as a " good fellow " ; that he visited all the British 
camps on Long Island, made observations openly, and draw- 
ings and memoranda of fortifications, etc., secretly ; that he 
passed over from Brooklyn to New York city and gathered 
much information concerning affairs there, the British hav- 
ing invaded Manhattan Island and secured possession of the 
town since his departure ; * and that he returned to Long 
Island and passed through the various camps to Huntington 
Bay for the purpose of going back to Norwalk. . 

Tradition tells us that Hale was conveyed from Norwalk 
to Huntington Bay on a sloop, and was landed from her 
yawl two hours before daybreak in the neighborhood of a 
place called "The Cedars." Near there a Widow Chiches- 
ter, a stanch loyalist (called " Widow Chich "), kept a tav- 
ern, which was the resort of all the Tories in that region. 
Hale passed this dangerous place with safety before cock- 
crowing, and at a farm-house a mile distant he was kindly 
furnished with breakfast and a bed for repose after his 
night's toil. Then he made his way to the nearest British 

* On the day after Hale's departure, a strong British force crossed the East 
River and landed at Kip's Bay at the foot of (present) Thirty-fourth Street, drove 
off an American detachment stationed there, and formed a line almost across the isl- 
and to Bloomingdale. On the i6th detachments of the two armies had a severe con- 
test on Harlem Plains, in which the Americans were victorious, but at the cost of 
the life of the gallant Colonel Knowlton. 



NATHAN HALE. 17 

camp, and was received without suspicion of his real charac- 
ter. Concerning his movements after that, until his return 
from New York, tradition is silent. 

Hale, on his return, had reached in safety the point on 
the Long Island shore where he first landed, and prepared 
to recross the sound at Norwalk the next morning. He 
wore shoes with loose inner soles. Between the soles he 
had concealed the accurate drawings he had made of fortifi- 
cations, etc., and also his memoranda, written in Latin on 
thin paper. He had given directions for the boat, from 
which he had landed, to come for him on a designated 
morning, which would be the next after his return. Satis- 
fied that he was safe from harm, for he was remote from a 
British post, and happy with the thought that his perilous 
mission was ended successfully and that he should render 
his country most important service, he awaited the coming 
morning with patience and serenity of mind. 

Feeling secure in, his simple dress and disguised manner, 
Hale entered the tavern of the Widow Chichester, at " The 
Cedars." A number of persons were in the room. A mo- 
ment afterward, a man, whose face seemed familiar to him, 
suddenly departed and was not seen again. 

Hale passed the night at the tavern, and at dawn went 
out to look for the expected boat. To his great joy he saw 
one moving toward the shore, with several men in it. Not 
doubting they were his friends, he hastened toward the 
beach, where, as the vessel touched the shore, he was 
astounded by the sight of a barge bearing British marines. 
He turned to flee, when a loud voice called, " Surrender or 
die ! " Looking back he saw six men standing erect, with 
muskets leveled at him. He was seized, taken into the 
barge, and conveyed to the British guard-ship Halifax^ 



1 8 THE TWO SPIES. 

Captain Quame, which was anchored behind a point ot 
wooded land of Lloyd's Neck. 

It has been asserted that the man who so suddenly de> 
parted from the room of the tavern at " The Cedars " when 
Hale entered was a Tory cousin of his. a dissipated fellow, 
who recognized his kinsman in disguise and betrayed him • 
into the hands of the enemy ; but there is no warrant for 
such an accusation. 

Hale's captors stripped and searched him, and found the 
evidences of his being a spy in the papers concealed be- 
tween the soles of his shoes. These formed as positive tes- 




timony as to his true character as did the papers found in 
Andre's boot, which convicted the adjutant-general of the 
British army of being a spy. 

Captain Hale was taken in one of the boats of the Hali- 



NATHAN HALE. 



■19 



fax to General Howe's headquarters, at the elegant mansion 
of James Beekman, at Mount Pleasant, as the high bank of 
the East River at Turtle Bay was called. The house was 
situated at (present) Fifty-first Street and First Avenue. It 
was then deserted by its stanch Whig owner. Around it 




Bbbkmah's GKKiinioun. 



were beautiful lawns and blooming gardens ; and near it 
was a greenhouse filled with exotic shrubbery and plants.* 
In that greenhouse Hale was confined, under a strong 
guard, on Saturday night, the 21st of September. He had 



* I ntule a dcelch of the Beekman matuioii to 1S49, and of the e^'o'i''''*' ><> 
iSja, a few day* before it wa* demolished, with all tbe gloriet of the k"^"1i "t 
Monnl Pleasant ; for, at the behest of the Street Comminioner, street* were opened 
throi^h the whole Beekman domain. The site of (he greenhouse wa* in the 
center of (present) Fifljr-second Street, a little east of Fint Avenne. It was erected 
with the mansion in 1764, The mansion was occnpied, daring the war, aa head* 
quarters by Gen erals Howe, Clinton, and Robertson. It was the residence of tbe 
Binnswick General Riedesel and bis family in the snmmer of l7Sa General 
CarletOD occnided it in 1783. 



20 THE TWO SPIES. 

been taken before Howe, who, without trial, and upon the 
evidence found in . his shoes, condemned him to be hanged 
early the next morning. Howe delivered him into the cus- 
tody of William Cunningham, the notorious British provost- 
marshal, with orders to execute him before sunrise the next 
day. 

This severity, nay, absolute inhumanity, was doubtless 
the result of great irritation of the minds of the British offi- 
cers at that moment. They had looked upon the little city 
of New York, containing twenty thousand inhabitants, as a 
most comfortable place for their winter-quarters. On the 
very morning when Hale was arrested (at a little past mid- 
night), a fearful conflagration was accidentally begun at a low 
tavern on the wharf near Whitehall Slip (now Staten Island 
Ferry). Swiftly the flames spread, and were not quenched 
until about Ave hundred buildings were consumed. The 
British believed, and so declared, that the fire was the work 
of .Whig incendiaries, to deprive, the army of comforts. The 
city was yet ablaze while Hale was lying in Beekman's 
greenhouse, awaiting his doom in the early morning. 

When Hale was taken before Howe, he frankly acknowl- 
edged his rank and his purpose as a spy. He firmly but re- 
spectfully told of his success in getting information in the 
British camps, and expressed his regret that he had not 
been able to serve his country better. " I was present at 
this interview," wrote a British officer, " and I observed that 
the frankness, the manly bearing, and the evident disinter- 
ested patriotism of the handsome young prisoner, sensibly 
touched a tender chord of General Howe's nature ; but the 
stem rules of war concerning such offenses would not allow 
him to exercise even pity." 




NATHAN HALE. 2 1 



CHAPTER III. 

Long before daybreak of a Christian Sabbath, Nathan 
Hale was marched to the place of execution, in the vicinity 
of (present) East Broadway and Market Street. He was 
escorted by a file of soldiers, and there delivered to the pro- 
vost-marshal. The young commander of a British detach- 
ment lying near, told Captain William Hull that on Hale's 
arrival he requested Cunningham to allow him to sit in his 
(the officer's) marquee while waiting for the necessary prepa- 
rations. The boon was granted. Hale requested the pres- 
ence of a chaplain ; it was denied. He asked for a Bible ; it 
was refused. At the solicitation of the compassionate young 
officer in whose tent Hale sat, he was allowed to write brief 
letters to his mother, sisters, and the young maiden to whom 
he was betrothed ; * but, when they were handed to the pro- 
vost-marshal to cause them to be forwarded, that officer read 
them. He grew furious as he perceived the noble spirit 
which breathed in every sentence, and with coarse oaths 
and foul epithets he tore them into shreds before the face of 
his young victim. Hale gave Cunningham a withering 
glance of scorn, and then resumed his usual calmness and 

* Her name was Alice Adams. She was a native of Canterbury, Connecticut, 
and was distinguished both for her intelligence and personal beauty. After Hale's 
death she married Eleazar Ripley, who left her a widow, with one child, at the age 
of eighteen years. The child died about a year after its father's death, and the 
mother subsequently married William Lawrence, of Hartford, where she lived until 
September, 1845, when she died at the age of eighty-eight years. She possessed a 
miniature of Hale and many of his letters. The miniature and the letters disap- 
peared many years ago, and there is no likeness of the young martyr extant. The 
last words uttered by Hale's betrothed were, ** Write to Nathan !"— Stuart's **Life 
of Nathan Hale," p. 28. 



32 THE T^VO SPIES. 

dignity of demeanor. The- provost-marshal afterward said 
that he destroyed the epistles " that the rebels should never 
know that they had a man who could die with such firm. 




CommraBAii Dnraovtira Hale's Lettcu. 



It was in the morning twilight o( a beautiful September 
day that Hale was led out to execution. The gallows was 



NATHAN HALE. 23 

the limb of an apple-tree in Colonel Rutgers's orchard.* 
Even at that early hour quite a large number of men and 
women had gathered to witness the sad scene. Cunning- 
ham wiatched every arrangement with evident satisfaction ; 
and, when everything was ready for the last scene in the 
tragedy, he scofiingly demanded of his victim his ''last 
dying speech and confession!" 

The soul of the young martyr, patriot, and hero, who 
was standing upon the fatal ladder f with his eyes turned 
heavenward, was then in secret communion with his Maker, 
and his mortal ears seemed closed to earthly sounds. He 
did not notice the insulting words of the human fiend. A 
moment afterward he looked benignly upon the evidently 
sympathetic spectators, and with a calm, clear voice pro- 
nounced the last words uttered by him : 

" I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my 
country 1 " 

* The place of Hale's exectttion has been a subject of conjecture. Some have 
supposed that it occurred near the Beekman mansion, Howe's headquarters ; others, 
that he was taken from the Provost Prison (now the Hall of Records), in the City 
Hall Park, to the usual place of execution of state criminals, at the Barracks near 
Chambers Street ; and others, on the farm of Colonel Rutgers, whose country man- 
sion was near the East River — at Pike and Monroe Streets. 

In 1849 I visited the Venerable Jeremiah Johnson, ex-Mayor of Brooklyn, who 
was living at his farm-house not far from the Navy. Yard, then between the city of 
Brooklyn and the village of Williamsburgh. Among other interesting facts concern- 
ing the Revolution, of his own experience and* observation, which he had treasured in 
his memory, was that his father was present at the execution of Hale. Like other 
Long Island farmers at that time, he went to New York occasionally with truck. 
On the day of the great (ire he was there, when himself and his team were pressed 
into the service of the British. He was with the detachment on Colonel Rutgers's 
farm at the time of the execution, and saw the martyr hanged upon the limb of an 
apple-tree in Rutgers's orchard. It was at the west side, not far from the line of 
(present) East Broadway. 

f The method employed at military executions at that time was to place a ladder 
against the gallows-beam or Itmb, cause the prisoner to ascend it a few feet, and, 
at a given signal, turn the ladder and leave the victim suspended. 



24 



THE TWO SPIES. 



The women wept ; some of them sobbed audibly. The 
sublime and burning words of the victim about to be sacri- 
ficed upon the altar of liberty, and the visible tokens of sym- 
pathy among those who witnessed the scene, maddened the 
coarse-natured and malignant provost-marshal.* He cried 
out in a voice hoarse with anger, '' Swing the rebel off! " and 
cursed the tearful women with foul imprecations, calling 
them rebels and harlots! 

So ended, in an atmosphere of mingled Christian faith, 
fortitude, and hope, and of savage barbarism and brutality, 
the beautiful life-drama of Nathan Hale, the early martyr 
for the cause of human freedom in the grand struggle for 
the independence of our country. It is a cause for just re- 
proach of our people that their history, poetry, oratory, and 
art have, for more than a century, neglected to erect a fit- 
ting memorial to his memory — either in the literature of the 
land he so loved that he freely gave his young life a sacrifice 
for its salvation from bondage, or in bronze or marble. No- 
where in our broad domain, stretching from sea to sea, 
teeming with almost sixty million freemen, is there even a 
mural tablet seen with the name of Nathan Hale upon it, 
excepting a small monument in his native town, overlooking 



* The pen of every writer who has noticed the career of William Cunningham, 
the notorious provost-marshal of the British army in New York and Philadelphia, 
has portrayed him as a most detestable character. To the credit of the commander 
with whom he served, be it said that it is satisfactorily proven that he was employed 
directly by the British ministry, and was independent of the authority of Howe and 
Clinton. He was a large, burly, red-haired, red-faced Irishman, sixty years of age, 
addicted to strong drink to excess, and with most forbidding features. His cruel- 
ties and crimes committed while in charge of prisoners of war in New York were 
notorious and monstrous. Upon the scaffold in England, after the war, he con- 
fessed that he had caused the death of fully two thousand prisoners under his 
charge by starvation and otherwise. He put poison into their food at times, and 
sold their rations for his own benefit, allowing the prisoners to starve I 



NATHAN HALE. 25 

the graves of his kindred, in an obscure church-yard, which 
was erected forty years ago. 

The body of the martyr was laid in the earth near the 
spot where his spirit left it. A British ofBcer was sent to 
acquaint Washington with his fate. A rude stone placed by 
the side of the grave of. his father, in the burial-ground of 
the Congregational Church in his native town, for long 
years revealed to passers-by the fact that it was in com- 
roemoration of " Nathan Hale, Esq., a captain in the army of 
the United States, who was born June 6, 1755, received the 
first honors of Yale College, September, 1773," and "re- 
signed his life a sacrifice to his country's liberty at New 
York, September 22, 1776, aged twenty-two." An entry of 
his death was made upon the town records of Coventry. 

Late in November, 1837 — sixty-one years after his sacri- 
fice — the citizens of Coventry formed a " Hale Monument 
Association " for the putpose of raising funds for the erec- 
tion of a suitable memorial to the memory of the young 
patriot. The association applied in vain to Congress for 
aid. By fairs, tea-parties, private dramatic performances, 
and other social appliances, carried on chiefly by the gentler 
sex, and a grant of twelve hundred dollars by the State of 
Connecticut, a sufficient sum was secured in 1846 to erect 
the desired monument. 

At one of the fairs, a poem, addressed to " The Daugh- 
ters of Freedom," and printed on white satin, was offered 
for sale, and was widely distributed. It contained the fol- 
lowing verses : 



f< 



Ye come with hearts that oft have glowed 

At his soul-stirring tale, 
To wreath the deathless evergreen 

Around the name of Hale. 



28 THE TWO SPIES. 

ing the War of i8i2'-is, a little fort, erected upon Black 
Rock, at the entrance to New Haven Harbor, on the site of 
a smaller one, built during the Revolution, was named Fort 
Hale^ the first monument of stone that commemorated him. 
It has long been in ruins. Then followed the simple struct- 
ure built by his neighbors at Coventry. Brief notices of 
the martyr have been given from time to time in occasional 
poetic effusions and in oratory. Timothy Dwight, Hale's 
tutor at Yale College, and afterward president of that insti- 
tution, wrote : 

" Thus while fond Virtue wished in vain to save. 
Hale, bright and generous, found a hapless grave ; 
With genius' living flame his bosom glowed. 
And Science lured him to her sweet abode. 
In Worth's fair path his feet adventured far. 
The pride of peace, the rising hope of war ; 
In duty Arm, in danger calm as even. 
To friends unchanging, and sincere to Heaven. 
How short his course, the prize how early won I 
While weeping Friendship mourns her favorite gone." 

I. W. Stuart, in his little biography of Hale,* has pre- 
served fragments of several poetic effusions. A short time 
after Hale's death, an unknown personal friend of the man 
tyr wrote a poem of one hundred and sixty lines, in which 

he described the personal appearance of the young soldier — 

** He warily trod on the dry, rustling leaves 

As he passed through the wood, as he passed through the wood. 
And silently gained his rude launch on the shore. 
As she played with the flood, as she played with the flood. 

'* The guards of the camp on that dark, dreary night 
Had a murderous will, a murderous will ; 
They took him and bore him afar from the shore. 
To a hut on the hill, to a hut on the hill." 

* ** Life of Captain Nathan Hale, the Martyr Spy of the American Revolution." 
By I. W. Stuart, Hartford, 1856. 



NATHAN HALE. 29 

tall and with " a beauteous face." ^ Of his qualities of temper 
and conduct he wrote : 

'* Removed from envy, malice, pride, and strife. 
He walked through goodness as he walked through life ; 
A kinder brother Nature never knew, 
A child more duteous or a friend more true." 

Of Hale's motives in becoming a spy he wrote : 

" Hate of oppression's arbitrary plan, ^ 
The love of freedom, and the rights of man ; 
A strong desire to save from slavery's chain 
The future millions of the Western main." 

The poet follows him in his career until he enters upon 
his perilous mission under instructions from Washington. 
Of the final scene he wrote : 

" Not Socrates or noble Russell died. 
Or gentle Sidney, Britain's boast and pride, 
Or gen'rous Moore, approached life's final goal. 
With more composed, more firm and stable soul" 

J. S. Babcock, of Coventry, wrote in the metre of Wolfe's 
Sir John Moore " : 

'* He fell in the spring of his early prime. 
With his fair hopes all around him ; 
He died for his birth-land — a ' glorious crime ' — 
Ere the palm of his fame had crowned him. 

" He fell in her darkness — he lived not to see 
The noon of her risen glory ; 
But the name of the brave, in the hearts of the free. 
Shall be twined in her deathless glory.' 



<« 



ft 



In a poem delivered before the Linonian Society of Yale 
College, at its centennial anniversary in 1853, a society of 
which Hale was a member, Francis M. Finch said, in allu- 
sion to the martyr : 




t 



" With slow tread, and still tread. 
IS the tented line ; 
And he counts the battery-guns 

By the gaunt and shadowy pine ; 
And his slow tread and still tread 
Gives no warning sign. 

" The dark wave, the plumed wave. 

It meets his eager j 
And it sparkles 'neath the s 

Like the glimmer of a lance ; 
A dark wave, a plumed wave. 

On an emerald expanse. 



" With calm brow, steady brow, 

He li&lens to his doom ; 
In his look there is no fear. 

Nor a shadow trace of glo( 
And with calm brow and steady brow 

He robes him for Ihe lomb. 

" In the long night, the siill night, 
He kneels upon the sod ; 
And the brutal guards withhold 
E'en Ihe solemn Word uf God 1 



• NATHAN HALE. 31 

" 'Neath the blue mom, the sunny morn, 
He dies upon the tree ; 
And he mourns that he can lose 

But one life for Liberty ; 
And in the blue mom, the sunny mora 
His spirit-wings are free I 



<i 



From fame>leaf and angel-leaf, 
From monument and urn, 

The sad of earth, the glad of heaven, 
His tragic fate shall leam ; 

And on fame-leaf and angel-leaf 
The name of Hale shall bum ! " 



At the dedication of a monument in i8S3f erected on the 
spot near Tarrytown where Andr6 was captured, the late 
Henry J. Raymond, in an address on the occasion, said : 

"At an early stage of the Revolution, Nathan Hale, 
captain in the American army, which he had entered, aban- 
doning brilliant prospects of professional distinction for the 
sole purpose of defending the liberties of his country — gifted, 
educated, ambitious — the equal of Andr6 in talent, .in worth, 
in amiable manners, and in every manly quality, and his su- 
perior in that final test of character — the motives by which 
his acts were prompted and his life was guided — laid aside 
every consideration personal to himself, and entered upon a 
service of infinite hazard to life and honor, because Wash- 
ington deemed it important to the sacred cause to which 
both had been sacredly set apart. Like Andr6, he was 
found in the hostile camp ; like him, though without trial, 
he was adjudged as a spy ; and, like him, he was con- 
demned to death. 

" And here the likeness ends. No consoling word, no 
pitying or respectful look, cheered the dark hours of his 
doom. He was met with insult at every turn. The sacred 



32 THE TWO SPIES. 

consolations of the minister of God were denied him ; the 
Bible was taken from him ; with an -excess of barbarity hard 
to be paralleled in civilized war, his dying letters of farewell 
to his mother and sisters were destroyed in his presence ; 
and, uncheered by sympathy, mocked by brutal power, and 
attended only by that sense of duty, incorruptible, undeiiled, 
which had ruled his life — finding a fit farewell in the serene 
and sublime regret that he had ' but one life to lose for his 
country ' — he went forth to meet the great darkness of an 
ignominious death. 

" The loving hearts of his early companions have erected 
a neat monument to his memory in his native town ; but, 
beyond that little circle, where stands his name recorded ? 
While the majesty of England, in the person of her sover- 
eign, sent an embassy across the sea to solicit the remains of 
Andr6 at the hands of his foes, that they might be enshrined 
in that sepulchre where she gamers the relics of her mighty 
and renowned sons — 

' Splendid in their ashes, pompous in the grave/ 

the children of Washington have left the body of Hale to 
sleep in its unknown tomb, though it be on his native soil, 
unhonored by any outward observance, unmarked by any 
memorial stone. Monody, eulogy, monument of marble or 
of brass, and of letters more enduring than all, have in his 
own land and in ours given the name and fate of Andr6 to 
the sorrowing remembrance of all time to come. American 
genius has celebrated his praises, has sung of his virtues, 
and exalted to heroic heights his prayer, manly but personal 
to himself, for choice in the manner of death — his dying 
challenge to all men to witness the courage with which he 
met his fate. But where, save on the cold page of history, 



NATHAN HALE. 33 

Stands the record of Hale ? Where is the hymn that speaks 
to immortality, and tells of the added brightness and en- 
hanced glory when his soul joined its noble host ? And 
where sleep the American of Americans, that their hearts 
are not stirred to solemn rapture at the thought of the sub- 
lime love oi country which buoyed him not alone ' above the 
fear of death/ but far beyond all thought of himself, of his 
fate and his fame, or of anything less than his country — and 
which shaped his dying breath into the sacred sentence 
which trembled at the last upon his quivering lip ?" 

These eloquent words have a deeper significance to-day 
than when they were uttered a generation ago. It is a just 
reproach to a nation of nearly sixty million freemen, rich 
and powerful beyond any other people on the globe, that the 
memory of Nathan Hale, their self-sacrificing benefactor 
in purpose, and a true and noble martyr in the cause of the 
liberty they enjoy, has been, until lately, absolutely neglected 
by them ; that no " monody, eulogy, monument of marble or 
of brass," dedicated to him by the public voice, appears any- 
where in our broad land. But there are now abundant 
promises that this reproach will be speedily removed. An 
earnest effort was begun by the " Daily Telegraph," a morn- 
ing journal of New York city, late in 1885, to procure funds 
by half-dime or " nickel " subscriptions, sufficient to erect a 
suitable monument to the memory of Nathan Hale, in the 
city of New York, where he suffered martyrdom. There is 
also a project on foot for the erection of a statue of Hale in 
the Connecticut State Capitol at Hartford. For this pur- 
pose the State of Connecticut has appropriated five thou- 
sand dollars. 

Let the conscience of our people, inspired by gratitude 
and patriotism, be fairly awakened to the propriety of the 



34 



THE TWO SPIES. 



undertaking, and funds will speedily be forthcoming suflB- 
cient to erect a magnificent monument in memory of 
Nathan Hale, in the city where he died for his country. 
I recommend, as a portion of the inscription upon the monu- 
ment, the subjoined epitaph, written fully thirty years ago, 
by George Gibbs, the ripe scholar and antiquary, who was at 
one time the librarian of the New York Historical Society : * 

" STRANGER, BENEATH THIS STONE 

LIBS THE DUST OF 

A SPY, 

WHO PERISHED UPON THE GIBBET ; 

YET 
THE STORIED MARBLES OF THE GREAT, 

THE SHRINES OF HEROES, 
ENTOMBED NOT ONE MORE WORTHY OF 

HONOR 

THAN HIM WHO HERE 

SLEEPS HIS LAST SLEEP. 

NATIONS 

BOW WITH REVERENCE BEFORE THE DUST 

OF HIM WHO DIES 

A GLORIOUS DEATH, 

URGED ON BY THE SOUND OF THE 

TRUMPET 

AND THE SHOUTS OF 

ADMIRING THOUSANDS. 

BUT WHAT REVERENCE, WHAT HONOR, 

IS NOT DUE TO ONE 

WHO FOR HIS COUNTRY ENCOUNTERED 

EVEN AN INFAMOUS DEATH, 

SOOTHED BY NO SYMPATHY, 

ANIMATED BY NO PRAISE ! 

* A iUtae in plaster, modeled from a description of Hale's features and person, 
has been made by E. S. Wood, sculptor. It represents an athletic young man, with 
his coat and vest removed, his neck and upper portion of his chest bared by the 
turning down of the collar of his ruffled shirt, and holding in hb right hand, which 
is resting upon his hip, the rope with which he is about to be suspended from the 
tree. The face of the martyr is an excellent ideal of the character of the young 
hero. 



JOHN ANDRfi. 




.ej^ ' 



JOHN ANDRfi. 



CHAPTER I. 

It is not known whether the place of John Andre's na- 
tivity was in London or elsewhere in England. His father 
was a Switzer, bom in Geneva. He was a merchant in 
London, where he married a pretty French maiden named 
Girardot, a native of that city, who in the year 1751 be- 
came the mother of the famous British spy. 

Of Andr6's childhood and early youth very little is 
known, even of the scenes of his primary education. Later, 
we find him at the University in Geneva ; and, when he 
was approaching young manhood, he was distinguished for 
many accomplishments and solid acquirements. He had 
mastered several European languages, and was an expert 
mathematician. He was versed in military science, and had 
a wide acquaintance with belles-lettres literature. He was an 
adept in music, dancing, and the arts of design, and was spe- 
cially commended for his military drawings. 

Andr6 had a taste and a desire for military life ; but, 
before he was seventeen years of age, he was called home 
to take a place in his father's counting-room. At that time 
his family lived at the Manor House, Clapton, where his 
father died in the spring of 1 769. The family then consisted 
of the widow, two sons, and three daughters. Of these John 
was the oldest and Anna was the youngest — the " tuneful 



38 THE TWO SPIES. 

Anna," as Miss Seward calls her in her " Monody," because 
of her poetic genius. 

John, though so young, was now a chief manager of his 
father's business and the head Of his mother's household. 
The summer of 1769 was spent by the family at little vil- 
lages in the interior of England, in the picturesque region 
of Lichfield, a famous cathedtal town, in which Dr. Johnson 
was bom, and at its grammar-school he and Addison and 
Garrick received their earlier education. 

In that delightful neighborhood young Andr6 formed an 
acquaintance with Miss Anna Seward, the bright and charm- 
ing daughter of Rev. Thomas Seward, canon -resident of 
Lichfield Cathedral, who lived in the bishop's palace. His 
daughter, then twenty-two years of age, was already distin- 
guished as a poet. Her home was the gathering-place of 
the local literary celebrities of that day — Dr. Erasmus Dar- 
win, author of " The Botanic Garden," and grandfather 
of the champion of the doctrine of evolution in our day ; 
Thomas Hayley, author of " The Triumphs of Temper " ; 
Sir Brooke Boothby, who wrote " Fables and Satires " ; 
Richard Lovell Edgeworth, a "gay Lothario," with some 
literary pretensions ; Thomas Day, an eccentric philosopher, 
who wrote the story of " Sandford and Merton," once as 
popular as " Robinson Crusoe " ; the blind and ill-humored 
Miss Anna Williams, the biographer of the Emperor Julian ; 
and other residents or occasional sojourners. 

Miss Seward was the central figure in this literary circle. 
Her personal beauty, vivacity, wit, and charming conver- 
sational powers, were very fascinating. Into that galaxy 
John Andr6 was introduced and gave it additional luster. 

The young London merchant also became acquainted 
with another maiden near his own age. She is represented 



JOHN ANDR± 39 

as exceedingly lovely in person and character. Her eyes 
were blue, her hair was of a golden color, and her complex- 
ion was brilliant, heightened in its charms, perhaps, by a 
hectic glow upon her cheek — the sad prophecy of the early 




HoHORA Shevd.— (From K painting by Ramnejr.)* 

fading of youthful beauty and of life. The maiden was 
Honora Sneyd, an inmate of the family of Canon Seward, 
and the loved companion of Anna. 

Andr^ was then eighteen years of -age ; a handsome, 
slender, graceful, and vivacious youth, with features as deli- 

* In a letter to Ibe Right Ilononble Ladjr Butler, d»ted Uchlield, June 4, 179B, 
Min Seward ipeaki of the picture a* follow» ; " HoDora Sneyd, after she became 



40 



THE TWO SPIES. 



cate as those of a girl, and accomplished beyond most young 
men of his time. He was five feet nine inches in height, 
dark complexion, dark eyes, brown hair, with a somewhat 
serious and tender expression. His manners were easy and 
insinuating. The young couple fell desperately in love with 
each other at their first meeting. 

Anna was delighted, and she fostered the passion. The 
lovers were betrothed before the summer was over; but 
'' Love's young dream !' was disturbed. The father of Miss 
Sneyd and the mother of Andr6 decided that both were too 
young for wedlock then, and it was agreed that at least two 
years should intervene between betrothal and nuptials. It 
was also deemed proper that they should be kept apart as 
much as possible during that period, in order to test the 
strength and reaUty of their attachment, and for other pru- 
dential reasons. 

With this understanding Andr6 returned to his desk 
in London, a hundred and twenty miles away. He had 
sketched two miniatures of Miss Sneyd. One he gave to 
Anna Seward, the other he^ placed in a locket and carried 
it in his bosom. He also arranged for a correspondence 
between Miss Seward and himself, of which Honora was to 
be the chief burden. Three of these letters have been pre- 
served, and are printed in this volume. '' His epistolary 
writings," says Dr. Sparks, "so far as specimens of them 
have been preserved, show a delicacy of sentiment, a play- 



Mn. Edgeworth, sat to Smart, at that time a celebrated miniatare-painter. He 
totally missed the likeness which Major Andr^ had, from his then inexperience in 
the art, so faintly and with so little justice to her beauty, caught. Romney acci- 
dentally, and without ever having beheld her, produced it completely. Yes, he 
drew, to represent the Serena of the * Triumph of Temper/ his own abstract idea 
of perfect loveliness, and the form of the face of Honora Sneyd rose beneath his 
pencil.'* Serena is represented reading by candle-light. 



JOHN ANDR£. 41 

fulness of imagination, and an ease of style, which could 
proceed only from native refinement and a high degree of 
culture." 

Andr6 had an aversion to mercantile pursuits, and had 
told his Lichfield friends that he greatly preferred the mili- 
tary profession. Miss Seward urged him to stick to his 
desk, as the only sure promise of a competence which would 
enable him to marry Honora. Her persuasion prevailed, 
and he resolved to remain a merchant, for a time at least 
In one of his letters to her he wrote : 

" I know you will interest yourself in my destiny. I have 
now completely subdued my aversion to the profession of 
a merchant, and hope, in time, to acquire an inclination for 
it. . . . When an impertinent consciousness whispers in my 
ear that I am not of the right stuff for a merchant, I draw 
my Honora's picture from my bosom, and the sight of that 
dear talisman so inspirits my industry that no toil seems 
oppressive." 

This correspondence was kept up several months, but 
Andre's suit did not prosper. Distance, separation, and 
various circumstances cooled the ardor of Miss Sneyd's love 
for her young admirer, and correspondence between them 
ceased. She had other suitors ; and, in 1773, she mar- 
ried Richard Lovell Edge worth, a gay young widower of 
twenty-five, who possessed a handsome fortune in the form 
of a fine estate in Ireland. Honora became the mother of 
Maria Edgeworth, the novelist. She died of consumption 
a few years afterward. In compliance with her dying re- 
quest, her husband married her sister Elizabeth for his third 
wife. 

Andr6 remained faithful to his first love, and carried 
Honora's miniature in his bosom until he died. He aban- 



42 



THE TWO SPIES. 



doned the mercantile business in 177 1, joined the royal army 
with the commission of lieutenant in 1772, and went over to 
Germany. He joined his regiment — the Royal English 
Fusileers — in Canada, late in 1 774, having made a farewell 
visit to his stanch friend Miss Seward before he sailed for 
America. During that visit a singular circumstance oc- 
curred. Miss Seward took Andr6 a little distance from 
Lichfield to call upon two literary friends, Mr. Cunning- 
ham, and a curate, the Rev. Mr. Newton. She had apprised 
them of the intended visit. 

Mr. Cunningham afterward related to Miss Seward a sin- 
gular dream he had on the night before this visit. He was 
in a great forest. A horseman approached at full speed. As 
he drew near, three men suddenly sprang from their conceal- 
ment in bushes, seized the rider, and took him away. The 
appearance of the captive's face was deeply impressed upon 
the dreamer's memory. He awoke, fell asleep again, and 
dreamed. He was now in a vast crowd of people, near a 
great city. The man whom he saw captured in the forest 
was now brought forth and hanged. This dream was related 
to the curate the next morning, and when, a while afterward, 
Miss Seward with her friend arrived, Mr. Cunningham rec- 
ognized in Andr6 the person he saw captured and hanged. 

Other presaging visions concerning Andr6*s fate have 
been related, some of them being undoubtedly pure fiction. 
For example : Soon after the evacuation of Philadelphia by 
the British in 1778, and the Americans had taken posses- 
sion of the city, some of the Continental officers gave a 
dinner-party to Washington at a spacious mansion in the 
suburbs, once belonging to one of the Penn family. At that 
banquet were two ladies who had known Major Andr6 dur- 
ing the British occupation, and had dined with him at this 



JOHN ANDRL 43 

Penn mansion. As they were passing through a grove near 
the house on that occasion, they both saw at the same mo- 
ment the body of a man suspended from a limb, and recog- 
nized his features as those of Andr6. The}' spoke of the 
vision at the table, and were laughed at ; even Washington 
joining in the merriment This ghost-story may be thus 
disposed of : Washington was not in Philadelphia at any 
time in the year 1 778. At the time above mentioned he was 
chasing Sir Henry Clinton across New Jersey. 

The following account appears to be well authenticated : 
A feminine friend of Miss Mary Hannah, a sister of Andr6, 
shared a bed with her one night at about the time of her 
brother's execution. The friend was awakened by the loud 
sobs of Miss Andr6, who said she had seen her brother made 
a prisoner. Her friend soothed her into quiet, and both fell 
asleep. Soon Miss Andr6 again awoke her friend, and said 
she had again seen her brother on trial as a spy. She de- 
scribed the scene with great particularity. Again she was 
quieted, and both fell asleep. Again she aroused her. friend 
by screaming, " They are hanging him ! " They both made 
a memorandum of the affair. The next mail brought the sad 
news of Andr6*s execution at about the time when his sister, 
Mary Hannah, saw him in her vision. 

Lieutenant Andr6 journeyed from England to Quebec, 
by way of Philadelphia. Why did he take this roundabout 
course? He arrived at Philadelphia in September (1774), 
just after the first Continental Congress beg^n its session 
there. His abilities as a keen observer of men and things 
were well known to General Carleton, the Governor of 
Canada, who arrived at Quebec from England while Andr6 
was in Philadelphia. May not that astute officer have di- 
rected Andr6, before he left England; to go to Philadelphia 



44 



THE TWO SPIES. 



as a spy, to learn what he could of the condition of public 
affairs, and the temper of the people in the disturbed colo- 
nies, and especially the designs of the Continental Congress? 
From Philadelphia he went to New York and Boston, and 
thence by water to Quebec, everywhere traveling, without 
recognition, in citizen's dress. He undoubtedly carried to 
Carleton much valuable information which that wide-awake 
officer desired to know. Andr6 arrived at Quebec early in 
November. 

A year later Lieutenant Andr6 was made a prisoner of 
war when Montgomery captured the fort at St. Johns, on 
the Sorel. " I have been taken a prisoner by the Americans," 
Andr6 wrote to Miss Seward, " and stripped of everything 
except the picture of Honora, which I concealed in my 
mouth. Preserving this, I yet think myself fortunate." He 
and his fellow-prisoners were taken first to Connecticut, and 
then to Lancaster and Carlisle in Pennsylvania. There he 
made many friends by his urbanity, his refined tastes, and 
his accomplishments. He taught the children of citizens 
the art of drawing in a free and easy style ; and he was a 
welcome guest in the higher social circles, was made a par- 
ticipant in all their pleasure-parties, and so added to their 
own enjoyments. 

Toward the close of 1776 Andr6 was exchanged and 
joined the British army in New York, then commanded by 
General Howe. To that officer he presented a memoir on 
the existing war, which was very favorably received. He had 
kept a journal ever since be came to America, in which both 
pen and pencil were jointly employed in the delineation and 
description of everything of interest which came under his 
observation, and this furnished him with much material for 
his memoir. Howe was delighted with his young soldier. 



JOHN ANDRk. 45 

and as soon as a vacancy occurred he gave him the position 
of aide on the staff of General Grey, with the rank of cap- 
tain. He was now fairly in the line of promotion which his 
signal abilities entitled him to receive. 

Andr6 served with distinction as a stafif-officer. He was 
the soul of the military social circle during the occupation 
of Philadelphia by the British army in the winter and spring 
of 1778. His pen, his pencil, and his brush, were continually 
busy in satirizing and caricaturing the " rebel " officers, or 
in dramatic exhibitions. He was a leader in all the social 
amusements of the army, the chief of which were theatrical 
performances. In these Andr6 was dramatist, actor, song- 
writer, and manager. He wrote prologues and localized 
plays, and w.as the chief manager of weekly balls. In a 
word, he was leader in setting on foot scenes of gayety and 
extravagance that were long remembered and lamented. 
Andr6 occupied the house of Dr. Franklin for several 
months. He carried away some valuable books. 

Many of the young officers were scions of the British 
nobility, and possessed ample means for the gratification of 
any desire. The infection of demoralization that spread 
through the army and society was fearful. The army suf- 
fered miich. Dr. Franklin said, " Howe did not take Phila- 
delphia — Philadelphia took Howe." Cupid scattered his 
darts so widely and with such effect among the soldiers, 
that in the flight of the British army across New Jersey, on 
the evacuation of Philadelphia, fully six hundred soldiers 
deserted and returned to their sweethearts and lately mar- 
ried wives. 

Many of the fair daughters of the Philadelphia loyalists 
were captivated by the young British officers. Among the 
latter was not one more fascinating than Major Andr6, and 



46 THE TWO SPIES. 

no one was more welcome into the best society. He formed 
warm friendships with several leading families ; among 
others, that of Edward Shippen, one of the wealthiest and 
most cultivated citizens, whose youngest daughter married 
General Benedict Arnold. 

Late in May, 1778, General Howe surrendered the com- 
mand of the army into the hands of Sir Henry Clinton, and 
prepared to return to England. The officers of the army, 
who were very much attached to him, resolved to give him 
a spectacular parting entertainment which should eclipse in 
novelty and splendor anything ever seen in America. In the 
conception and preparation of the entertainment the genius 
of Andr6, in all its phases, was brought into requisition. He 
designed the decorations, the costumes to be worn, even 
the ticket of admission to the show. The entertainment was 
called Mischianza — a medley. It was given at the country, 
seat of Thomas Wharton, a Philadelphia Quaker — a fine, 
stately mansion, with spacious grounds around it, standing 
near the present navy-yard. 



CHAPTER II. 

• 

In a letter to his friend Miss Seward, dated Philadelphia, 
May 23, 1778, Major Andr6 gave the following account of 
the great /^/^ in honor of General Howe : 

" That our sentiments might be the more unreservedly 
and unequivocally known, it was resolved among us that 
we should give him as splendid an entertainment as the 
shortness of the time and our present situation wou)d allow 
us. For the expenses the whole army would most cheer- 
fully have contributed ; but it was requisite to draw the 



JOHN ANDR&. 4; 

line somewhere, and twenty-two field-officers joined in a 
subscription adequate to a plan they meant to adopt. I 
know your curiosity will be raised on this occasion ; I shall, 
therelore, give you as particular an account of our Mischi- 
ama* as I have been able to collect. 

" From the name you will perceive that it was made up 
from a variety of entertainments. Four of the gentlemen 
subscribers were appointed managers — Sir John Wrottesley, 
Colonel O'Hara, Major Gardiner, and Montressor, the chief 




THB HtSCHtAHZA TlCKR.— (Dnwn by lIa)or Aiidrf.)t 



engineer. On the tickets of admission which they gave out 
for Monday, the i8th, was engraved, in a shield, a view 
of the sea, with the setting sun, and in a wreath the words 

* Thiit account wu primed in the " Lady's Maguine," with which Mtu Seward 
had a literary conneclion, in August, 177B. 
\ Thii is one half the »tt« of the original 



48 



THE TWO SPIES. 



^Luceo disctdem, aucto splendort resurgam.' At top was the 
general's crest, with 'vive! valet ' All round the shield ran a 
vignette, and various military trophies filled up the ground.* 
"A grand regatta began the entertainment. It consisted 
of three divisions. In the first place was the Ferrfi galley, 
having on board several general officers and a number of 
ladies. In the center was the Hussar gal- 
ley, with Sir William and Lord Howe, 
Sir Henry Clinton, the officers of their 
suite, and some ladies. The Cornwallis 
galley brought up the rear, having on 
board General Knyphausen and his 
suite, the British generals, and a party 
of ladies. On each quarter of these gal- 
leys, and forming their division, were 
five flat-boats, lined with green cloth, 
and filled with ladies and gentlemen. 
In front of the whole were three flat- 
boats, with a band of music in each. 
Six barges rowed about each flank, to 
keep off the swarm of boats that cov* 
ered the river from side to side. The 
galleys were dressed out in a variety of colors and streamers, 
and on each flat-boat was displayed the flag of its own divis- 
ion. In the stream opposite the center of the city t\\& Fanny, 




* I copied Ikil ticker rrom one of (be oripnab in the Franklin Library, at Pbiia- 
delphia, in 184S. It U atlacbed, with drawingi of a head-dreu for the Miiekianta, 
and a portrait of Captain Cathcait, a son of Lord Cathcart, to his roanuuripl 
" Annals of Philadelphia," depoEited with ihit iniiitution by ibe late John F. 
Watson, Esq. The designs for the ticket and the other sketches were made by 
Andn! ; and a tilAmetli of Sir John Wrotteslcy, one of the managers, was cut by 
Andri. They were presented to Mr. Wat&on by Miss Craig, a participant In the 
fltt. She was the chosen lady of the Second Knight of the Blended Rose. An- 
dr^'t drawings for the costumes of the Ladies of the Blended Rose and Bnming 



JOHN ANDR£, 49 

armed ship, magnificently decorated, was placed at anchor ; 
and at some distance ahead lay his Majesty's ship Roebuck^ 
with the admiral's flag hoisted at the foretopmast-head. The 
transport ships, extending in a line the whole length of the 
town, appeared with colors flying and crowded with spec- 
tators, as were also the openings of the several wharves on 
the shore, exhibiting the most picturesque and enlivening 
scene the eye could desire. The rendezvous was at Knight's 
wharf, at the north end of the city." * 

After giving an account of the aquatic procession down 
the river, Andr6 continues : 

" The landing-place was the Old Fort, a little to the south- 
ward of the town,t fronting the building prepared for the 
reception of the company, about four hundred yards from 
the water by a gentle ascent. As soon as the general's barge 
was seen to push for the shore, a salute of seventeen guns 
was fired from the Roebuck^ and, after some interval, by the 
same number by the Vigilant. The company, as they dis- 
embarked, arranged themselves into a line of procession, 
and advanced through an avenue formed by the two files 
of grenadiers, and a line of light horse supporting each file. 
This avenue led to a square lawn of two hundred and fifty 
yards on each side, lined with troops, and properly prepared 
for the exhibition of a tilt and tournament, according to the 
customs and ordinances of ancient chivalry. We proceeded 

Mountain are preserved. The form' was a polonaise, or a flowing robe of white 
silk, with a spangled pink sash and spangled shoes and stockings ; a veil spangled 
and trimmed with silver lace, and a towering head-dress of pearls and jewels. The 
Ladies of the Burning Mountain had their polonaises and white sashes bound with 
black. The engraving shows the style of the head-dress, copied from Andre's 
drawing. 

♦ A little above Vine Street. 

f A little below the present navy-yard. 



50 THE TWO SPIES. 

through the center of the square. The music, consisting of 
all the bands of the army, moved in front. The managers, 
with favors of white and blue ribbons on their breasts, fol- 
lowed next in order. The general, admiral, and the rest of 
the company, succeeded promiscuously. 

" In front of the building, bounding the view through a 
vista formed by two triumphal arches, erected at proper 
intervals in a line with the landing-place, two pavilions, 
with rows of benches rising one above another, and serving 
as the wings of the first triumphal arch, received the ladies, 
while the gentlemen ranged themselves in convenient order 
on each side. On the front seat of each pavilion were placed 
seven of the principal young ladies of the country, dressed 
in Turkish habits, and wearing on their turbans the favors 
with which they meant to reward the several knights who 
were to contend in their honor. These arrangements were 
scarcely made, when the sound of trumpets was heard at a 
distance ; and a band of knights, dressed in ancient habits 
of white and red silk, and mounted on gray horses, richly 
caparisoned in trappings of the same colors, entered the 
lists, attended by their esquires on foot, in suitable apparel, 
in the following order : 

" Four trumpeters, properly habited, their trumpets dec- 
orated with small pendent banners. A herald in his robes of 
ceremony ; on his tunic was the device of his band, two roses 
intertwined, with the motto — ^We droop ivhen separated.^ 

" Lord Cathcart, superbly mounted on a managed horse, 
appeared as chief of these knights ; two young black slaves, 
with sashes and drawers of blue and white silk, wearing 
large silver clasps round their necks and arms, their breasts 
and shoulders bare, held his stirrups. On his right hand 
walked Captain Harard, and on his left Captain Brownlow, 



JOHN ANDRi. , 51 

and his two esquires, the one bearing his lance, the other his 
shield. His device was Cupid riding on a lion ; the motto 
— * Surmounted by Lave.' His lordship appeared in honor of 
Miss Auchmuty.* 

" Then came in order the knights of his band, each at- 
tended by his 'squire, bearing his lance and shield. 

** First knight, Hon. Captain Cathcart,t in honor of Miss 
N. White. — 'Squire, Captain Peters. — Device, a heart and 
sword ; motto — * Love and Honor' 

" Second knight, Lieutenant Bygrove, in honor of Miss 
Craig. — 'Squire, Lieutenant Nichols. — Device, Cupid tracing 
a circle ; motto — * Without End' 

" Third knight. Captain Andr6, in honor of Miss P. 
Chew.:|: — 'Squire, Lieutenant Andr6.* — Device, two game- 
cocks fighting ; motto — * No rival' 

".Fourth knight. Captain Horneck, in honor of Miss N. 
Redmond. — 'Squire, Lieutenant Talbot. — Device, a burning 
heart ; motto — * Absence can not extinguish* 

* Miss Aachmuty was the only English maiden present. She was about to be- 
come the bride of Captain Montressor, the chief engineer. Watson says there 
were not more than 6fty unmarried American ladies present ; the rest were all 
married. 

t Captain Cathcart, the son of Lord Cathcart, married a daughter of Andrew 
Eliot, once a collector of customs at Philadelphia. ' The young officer had been 
making love most vehemently to Miss Eliot all winter. She was pretty, liyely, and 
well educated. The captain wrote her many letters, avowing his lore for her, but 
much of his conduct seems to have been mere coquetry. Miss Eliot was in earnest, 
and received his attentions and his letters as genuine tokens of his love. When it 
became evident that he meant to deceive her, her father laid his letters before Sir 
Henry Clinton, of whose military family young Cathcart was a member. Clinton 
advised the young man to marry Miss Eliot Cathcart wished to postpone it until 
the end of the war. Clinton told him he had gone so far that he must marry her 
speedily or leave his family. They were married in April, 1779. She was after- 
ward " Lady Cathcart," and appeared at court when her husband became an earl. 

X A daughter of Chief-Justice Chew. 

* A brother of Captain Andr^, then nineteen years of age. AAer Andre's death, 
he was knighted by the king. 

5 



52 



THE TWO SPIES. 



" Fifth knight, Captain Mathews, in honor of Miss Bond. 
— 'Squire, Lieutenant Hamilton. — Device, a winged heart ; 
motto — ' Each fair by turns' 

" Sixth knight. Lieutenant Sloper, in honor of Miss M. 
Shippen.* — 'Squire, Lieutenant Brown. — Device, a heart and 
sword; motto — * Honor and the fair' " 



_c7.^- 



^^-^ 




TOURNAHEHT. 



After they had made the circuit of the square, and sa- 
luted the ladies as they passed before the pavilion, they 
ranged themselves in a line with that in which were the 



• ARerward the wife of BenedicI Arnold. 



JOHN ANDRL 53 

• 

ladies of their device ; and their herald (Mr. Beaumont) ad- 
vancing into the center of the square, after a flourish of 
trumpets, proclaimed the following challenge : 

" The Knights of the Blended Rose, by me, their herald, 
proclaim and assert that the Ladies of the Blended Rose 
excel in wit, beauty, and every accomplishment, those of the 
whole world ; and should any knight or knights be so hardy 
as to dispute or deny it, they are ready to enter the lists with 
them, and maintain their assertions by deeds of arms, accord- 
ing to the laws of ancient chivalry." 

At the third repetition of this challenge, the sound of 
trumpets was heard from the opposite side of the square ; 
and another herald, with four trumpeters, dressed in black- 
and-orange, galloped into the lists. He was met by the 
Herald of the Blended Rose, and, after a short parley, they 
both advanced in front of the pavilions, when the black her- 
ald (Lieutenant Moore) ordered his trumpets to sound, and 
thus proclaimed defiance to the challenge in the following 
words : 

. "The Knights of the Burning Mountain present them- 
selves here, not to contest by words, but to disprove by 
deeds, the vainglorious assertions of the Knights of the 
Blended Rose, and enter these lists to maintain that the 
Ladies of the Burning Mountain are not excelled in beauty, 
virtue, or accomplishments, by any in the universe." 

He then returned to the part of the barrier through 
which he had entered, and shortly afterward the Black 
Knights, attended by their 'squires, rode into the lists in the 
following order : 

" Four trumpeters preceding the herald, on whose tunic 
was represented a mountain sending forth flames ; motto — 
* / burn forever,^ 



54 THE TWO SPIES. 

" Captain Watson, of the Guards, as chief, dressed in a 
magnificent suit of black-and-orange silk, and mounted on a 
black managed horse, with trappings of the same color with 
his own dress, appeared in honor of Miss Franks. He was 
attended in the same manner with Lord Cathcart. Captain 
Scott bore his lance and Lieutenant Lytton his shield. The 
device, a heart, with a wreath of flowers ; motto — ' Love and 
glory: 

*' First knight. Lieutenant Underwood, in honor of Miss 
S. Shippen. — 'Squire, Ensign Haserkam. — Device, a pelican 
feeding her young ; motto — * For those I love.* 

'* Second knight, Lieutenant Wingard, in honor of Miss 
R. P. Shippen. — 'Squire, Captain Boscawen. — Device, a bay- 
leaf ; motto — * Unchangeable: 

" Third knight, Lieutenant Deleval, in honor of Miss B. 
Bond. — 'Squire, Captain Thome. — Device, a heart, aimed at 
by several arrows, and struck by one ; motto — * Only one 
pierces me: 

" Fourth knight. Monsieur Montluissent (Lieutenant of 
the Hessian Chasseurs), in honor of Miss B. Redman. — 
'Squire, Captain Campbell. — Device, a sunflower turning 
toward the sun ; motto — ^Je vise h vous: 

" Fifth knight, Lieutenant Hobart, in honor of Miss S. 
Chew. — 'Squire, Lieutenant Briscoe. — Device, Cupid pierc- 
ing a coat-of-mail with his arrow; motto — 'Proof to all but 
love: 

" Sixth knight, Brigade-Major Tarleton, in honor of Miss 
W. Smith. — 'Squire, Captain Heart. — Device, a light dra- 
goon ; motto — ' Swift, vigilant, and bold: 

"After they had rode round the lists, and made their 
obeisance to the ladies, they drew up, fronting the White 
Knights ; and the chief of them having thrown down his 



JOHN andrL 55 

gauntlet, the Chief of the Black Knights directed his esquire 
to take it up. The knights then received their lances from 
their esquires, fixed their shields on their left arms, and, mak- 
ing a general salute to each other by a very graceful move- 
ment of their lances, turned round to take their career, and, 
encountering in full gallop, shivered their spears. In the 
second and third encounter they discharged their pistols. 
In the fourth they fought with swords. At length the two 
chiefs, spurring forward into the center, engaged furiously in 
single combat, till the marshal of the field (Major Gwyne)* 
rushed in between the chiefs and declared that the Fair 
Damsels of the Blended Rose and Burning Mountain were 
perfectly satisfied with the proofs of love and the signal 
feats of valor given by their respective knights ; and com- 
manded them, as they prized the future favors of their mis- 
tresses, that they would instantly desist from further combat. 
Obedience being paid by the chiefs to the order, they joined 
their respective bands. The White Knights and their at- 
tendants filed off to the left, the Black Knights to the right, 
and, after passing each other at the lower side of the quad- 
rangle, moved up alternately till they approached the pavil- 
ion of the ladies, where they g^ve a general salute. 

" A passage being now opened* between the pavilions, the 
knights, preceded by their 'squires and the bands of music, 
rode through the first triumphal arch and arranged them- 
selves to the right and left. This arch was erected in honor 
of Lord Howe. It presented two fronts, in the Tuscan or- 
der ; the pediment was adorned with various naval trophies, 
and at the top was a figure of Neptune, with a trident in his 
right hand. In a niche on each side stood a sailor with a 
drawn cutlass. Three plumes of feathers were placed on 
the summit of each wing, and on the entablature was this 



56 THE TWO SPIES. 

inscription : * Laus illi debetur^ et a me gratia fnajor* The 
interval between the two arches was an avenue three hun- 
dred feet long and thirty-four broad. It was lined on each 
side with a file of troops ; and the colors of all the army, 
planted at proper distances, had a beautiful effect in diversi- 
fying the scene. 

'* Between these colors the knights and *squires took 
their stations. The bands continued to play several pieces 
of martial music. The company moved forward in pro- 
cession, with the ladies in the Turkish habits in front : as 
these passed they were saluted by their knights, who then 
dismounted and joined them ; and in this order we were all 
conducted into a garden that fronted the house, through the 
second triumphal arch dedicated to the general. This arch 
was also built in the Tuscan order. On the interior part of 
the pediment were painted a Plume of Feathers and various 
military trophies. At the top stood the figure of Fame, and 
on the entablature these words — * /, bone^ quo virtuo tua le 
vocet ; I pede fausto* On the right-hand pillar was placed a 
bomb-shell, and on the left a flaming heart. The front next 
the house was adorned with preparations for a fire-work. 

" From the garden we ascended a flight of steps covered 
with carpets, which led into a spacious hall ; the panels, 
painted in imitation of Sienna marble,* inclosing portions 
of white marble ; the surbase and all below were black. In 
this hall, and in the adjoining apartments, were prepared 
tea, lemonade, and other cooling liquors, to which the com- 

* The painting was done in distemper upon canvas, in the manner of theatrical 
scene-painting. Andr^ was assisted in his art-work by Captain Oliver De Lancey, 
of New York, an energetic leader of loyalists. He married a daughter of David 
Franks. She was active in the Mischianta affair. Her sister married Colonel 
Johnson, of the British army, who was in command at Stony Point, on the Hudson, 
when it was captured by General Wayne in the summer of 1779. 



JOHN andr£. 57 

pany seated themselves ; during which time the knights 
came in, and on the knee received their favors from their 
respective ladies. One of these rooms was afterward appro- 
priated to the use of the Pharaoh table. As you entered it 
you saw, in a panel over the chimney, a cornucopia, exuber- 
antly filled with flowers of the richest colors. Over the 
door, as you went out, another presented itself, shrunk, re- 
versed, and emptied. 

" From these apartments we were conducted up to a ball- 
room, decorated in a light, elegant style of painting. The 
ground was a pale blue, paneled with a small gold bead, and 
in the interior filled with dropping festoons of flowers in 
their natural colors. Below the surface the ground was of 
rose-pink, with drapery festooned in blue. These decora- 
tions were heightened by eighty-five mirrors, decked with 
rose-pink silk ribbons and artificial flowers ; and in the inter- 
mediate spaces were thirty-four branches with wax-lights, 
ornamented in a similar manner. On the same floor were 
four drawing-rooms, with sideboards of refreshments, deco- 
rated and lighted in the same style and taste as the ball- 
room. 

* 

" The ball was opened by the knights and their ladies, 
and the dances continued till ten o'clock, when the windows 
were thrown open, and a magnificent bouquet of rockets be- 
gan the fire-works. These were planned by Captain Mon- 
tressor, the chief-engineer, and consisted of twenty different 
exhibitions, displayed under his directions with the happiest 
success and in the highest style of beauty. Toward the con- 
clusion the interior part of the triumphal arch was illumi- 
nated amid an uninterrupted flight of rockets and bursting 
balloons. The military trophies on each side assumed a va- 
riety of transparent colors. The shell and flaming heart on 



58 



THE TWO SPIES. 



the wings sent forth Chinese fountains, siicceded by fire- 
works. Fame appeared at the top, spangled with stars, 
and from her trumpet blowing the following device in 
letters of light : ' Les lauriers sont immortels.' A sauteur 
of rockets bursting from the pediment concluded the feu 
d'artifice. 

" At twelve supper was announced, and large folding- 
doors, hitherto artfully concealed, being suddenly thrown 
open, discovered a magnificent saloon of two hundred and 
ten feet by forty, and twenty-two in height, with three al- 
coves on each side, which served for sideboards. The ceil- 
ing was the segment of a circle, and the sides were painted 
of a light straw-color, with vine-leaves and festoon-flowers, 
some in a bright and some in a darkish green. Fifty-six large 
pier-glasses, ornamented with green silk, artificial flowers, 
and ribbons ; a hundred branches with three lights in each, 
trimmed in the same manner as the mirrors ; eighteen lus- 
ters, each with twenty-four lights, suspended from the ceil- 
ing, and ornamented as the branches ; three hundred wax- 
tapers disposed along the supper-tables ; four hundred and 
thirty covers; twelve hundred dishes; twenty-four black 
slaves, in Oriental dresses, with silver collars and bracelets, 
ranged in two lines and bending to the ground as the gen- 
eral and admiral approached the saloon — all these, forming 
together the most brilliant assemblage of gay objects, and 
appearing at once as we entered by an easy ascent, exhibited 
a coup d'ail beyond description magnificent. 

" Toward the end of the supper the Herald of the 
Blended Rose, in his habit of ceremony, attended by his 
trumpeters, entered the saloon, and proclaimed the king's 
health, the queen and royal family, the army and navy, with 
their respective commanders, the knights and their ladies, 



JOHN ANDR&. 59 

and the ladies in general. Each of these toasts was fol- 
lowed by a flourish of music. After supper we returned 
to the ball-room and continued to dance until four o'clock.'* 



CHAPTER III. 

The Mischianza was severely criticised in Great Britain 
and America, as an undeserved compliment to an incom- 
petent officer. Howe was an indolent procrastinator, and 
fond of sensual indulgence ; and he had not only effected 
nothing of importance for his country in America, but had 
hindered more competent men. He was charged by Gal- 
loway, a Philadelphia Tory then in London, with " a vanity 
and presumption unparalleled in history, after his indolence 
and wretched blunders,** in accepting from a few officers " a 
triumph more magnificent than would have become the con- 
queror of America, without the consent of his sovereign or 
approbation of his country." 

It is asserted that at Philadelphia Howe was openly 
licentious, kept a mistress, loved his bottle inordinately, and 
engaged secretly in business transactions for his own gain, 
similar to those with which Benedict Arnold was charged, 
and caused him to be reprimanded by order of Congress. 
Horace Walpole said, " He returned to England richer in 
money than in laurels." Another said, " The only bays he 
possessed were thoise that drew his carriage " ; and still an- 
other, that " he has given America to the Americans." And 
yet staid men, as well as romantic enthusiasts like Andr6, did 
not hesitate to award him honors which only great heroes 
and most virtuous men deserve. Andr6 even wrote a ful- 
some poetic address to be read to Howe during the file. 



6o THE TWO SPIES. 

The general exercised good sense by forbidding its utter- 
ance. 

The extreme folly of the Mischianza^ under the peculiar 
circumstances, was deplored by sensible men in and out of 
the army. When an old British major of artillery, in Phila- 
delphia, was asked by a young person what was the distinc- 
tion between the " Knights of the Burning Mountain " and 
the " Knights of the Blended Rose," the veteran replied : 
" The * Knights of the Burning Mountain ' are tom-fools, and 
the * Knights of the Blended Rose ' are damned fools ! I know 
of no other distinction between them." The old soldier, 
though a Briton, greatly admired Washington. Placing a 
hand upon each knee, he added, in a tone of deep mortifica- 
tion, " What will Washington think of this ? " 

Just one month after this grand show at Philadelphia, a far 
grander and more important spectacle was exhibited at that 
city. It was the sudden flight of the whole British army from 
the town, across the Delaware and over New Jersey, eagerly 
pressing toward New York ; also the speedy entrance of Con- 
tinental troops into Philadelphia, and the return of Congress. 

Sir Henry Clinton, now in chief command of the British 
army, was making preparations for a vigorous campaign, 
when orders came from the ministers to evacuate Phila- 
delphia at once, to prevent a blockade of the army and navy 
on the Delaware by a French fleet under D'Estaing, then on 
its way to America. Clinton obeyed. Washington, with his 
recuperated army at Valley Forge, pursued and overtook 
the fugitives near Monmouth Court-House. There, on a 
very hot Sunday in June (28th), a sanguinary but indecisive 
battle was fought. That night Clinton secretly stole away 
with his whole force (while the wearied Americans slept on 
their arms), and escaped to New York. 



JOHN ANDR&, 6l 

Lord Howe had scarcely left the Capes of the Delaware, 
when D'Estaing appeared. Howe sailed for New York, 
and anchored his fleet in Raritan Bay. D'Estaing's larger 
vessels could not enter the shallow waters of the bay, and 
sailed away for Rhode Island, to assist American troops in 
expelling the British from that domain. A storm dispersed 
the two fleets. The attempt at expulsion was a failure. 
Clinton sailed with four thousand troops to strengthen Brit- 
ish power on Rhode Island. Thence he sent General Grey 
on a marauding expedition to New Bedford and its vicinity, 
Andr6 accompanied him, and afterward wrote an amusing 
poem, to the tune of " Yankee Doodle," entitled " Yankee 
Doodle's Expedition to Rhode Island." * He also wrote a 
poem, in eighteen stanzas, giving an amusing account of a 
duel between Christopher Gadsden, of South Carolina, and 
General Robert Howe, of the Continental army. This poem 
may be found in Sargent's " Life and Career of Major An- 
dr6." Other poems, evidently from Andr6*s pen, ridiculing 
the " rebels," frequently appeared in Rivington's " Royal 
Gazette," until the tragedy that ended his life in the fall 
of 1780. 

Late in 1778 General Grey returned to England, when 
Andr6 took the position of aide to General Clinton, with 
the rank of provincial major. He evinced such eminent 
clerical and executive ability that early in 1779 he was 
made deputy adjutant -general of the British forces in 
America. 

The city of New York continued to be the headquarters 
of the British army until the close of the war. Clinton made 
his quarters at No. i Broadway, a spacious house, with a 



* This poem, with explanatory notes, may be found in Frank Moore's " Ballads 
of the Revolution." 



62 THE TWO SPIES, 

garden extending to the Hudson River. He also occupied 
the fine Beekman mansion at Turtle Bay as a summer resi- 
dence. 

The British officers made the city a theatre of great 
gayety. They were continually engaged in every kind of 
amusement, to while away their time when not on active 
duty. In these amusements Major Andr6 was ever con- 
spicuous, especially in dramatic performances ; and there he 
freely indulged his love for good-natured satirical writing. 
He wrote much for Rivington's " Gazette " in prose and 
verse — political squibs, satires, and lampoons — the " rebels " 
and their doings being his chief theme. 

It was at No. i Broadway that Andr6 wrote his best- 
known poem, "The Cow-Chase," in imitation of "Chevy 
Chase." There he also wrote his most elaborate prose com- 
position, " A Dream." This he read aloud at a social gath- 
ering, and it was published in Rivington's paper. In his 
position on Clinton's staff he was able to exercise his ever- 
kindly disposition toward the unfortunate, and never left 
unimproved an opportunity to do so. 

Major Andr6 was with Sir Henry Clinton on an expe- 
dition up the Hudson in May, 1779, when the British capt- 
ured the American post of Stony Point, and Fort Lafayette, 
on Verplanck's Point, opposite. When the batteries of Fort 
Lafayette were silenced, Andr6 was sent to receive the sur- 
render of the garrison and the works. A few weeks later he 
wrote a friendly letter to Margaret Shippen (then the wife 
of General Benedict Arnold), in whose family the major had 
been a great favorite while in Philadelphia. The letter 
was dated " Headquarters, New York, the i6th of August, 
1779." He offered to do some "shopping "in New York 
for Mrs. Arnold, saying : 



k 



JOHN ANDRJS. 63 

"It would make me very happy to become useful to you 
here. You know the Mischianza made me a complete mil- 
liner. Should you not have received supplies for your full- 
est equipment for that department, I shall be glad to enter 
into the whole detail of cap-wire, needles, gauze, etc., and to 
the best of my ability render you in these trifles services 
from which I hope you would infer a zeal to be further em- 
ployed. I beg you would present my best respects to your 
sisters, to the Miss Chews, and to Mrs. Shippen and Mrs. 
Chew. 

" I have the honor to be, with the greatest regard, 
madam, your most obedient and most humble servant, 

"John Andr£." 

General Arnold had been made military governor of 
Philadelphia after the American troops and Congress repos- 
sessed it. He lived most extravagantly. He kept a coach- 
and-four, with a coachman in livery ; gave sumptuous din- 
ner parties, and charmed the gayer portion of Philadelphia 
society by his princely display. He was keenly watched 
by men who knew his character well, or envied his suc- 
cess as a soldier, and he was hated by persons in exalted 
positions for his many bad qualities. Among the latter was 
General Joseph Reed, then President of the Executive Coun- 
cil of Pennsylvania. Early in 1779 that Council submitted 
to Congress charges against Arnold of being guilty of mal- 
feasance in office. Congress referred the charges to a com- 
mittee of inquiry, whose report exculpated the general from 
all criminality in the matter charged against him. . 

Arnold promptly asked Congress to investigate the 
charges. He regarded this report of the committee as a 
vindication of his cha;racter ; but he immediately urged 



64 THE TWO SPIES. 

Congress to act speedily upon the report. Instead of doing 
so, the report was referred to a joint committee of Congress 
and the Executive Council of Pennsylvania. They passed a 
resolution to refer some of the charges to a court-martial, to 
be appointed by Washingfton. When the charges were so 
referred, Arnold was indignant, but was compelled to sub- 
mit. He urged prompt action, but a court-martial to try 
him was not convened until December following. They 
gave their decision on the 26th of January, 1780. The ac- 
cused was acquitted of several of the charges, and of " all 
intentional wrong" in the whole matter of the other charges; 
but it was decided that, for " imprudent and improper con- 
duct," he should be reprimanded by the commander-in-chief. 
This was done in the most delicate manner by Washington ; 
but, as it implied a stigma upon his character, Arnold was 
exceedingly indignant. This act doubtless stimulated him 
in his treasonable undertaking, in which he appears to have 
been already engaged for fully nine months. Dr. Sparks 
says : ** He [Arnold] had already made secret advances to 
the enemy under a feigned name, intending to square his 
conduct according to circumstances ; and prepared, if the 
court decided against him,* to seek revenge at any hazard." 

There appears to be clear evidence that overtures were 
first made by the other side, probably by Beverly Robinson,* 
to whom is attributed a letter given by Marbois, who was 
attached to the French legation at Philadelphia.! Be that 
as it may, it is known that correspondence between General 
Arnold and Sir Henry Clinton began so early as the spring 



* Beverly Robinson was a gentleman of fortune, a son-in-law of Frederick Phil- 
lipse, proprietor of Phillipse Manor on the Hudson, and a very active Tory. 

t See a copy of this letter in the " Life and Career of John Andr^/' by Win- 
throp Sargent, p. 447. 



JOHN ANDRL 65 

of 1779. Arnold wrote in a disguised hand, and under the 
assumed name of " Gustavus/' The tenor of the correspond- 
ence was of a commercial character, so as to mislead others. 
After the exchange of two or three letters, and with the 
impression that " Gustavus " was an officer of high rank in 
the American army, Clinton committed the task of carrying 



J 



'*^'"~i^M4v.^'v>v.— ^ uv^c» 



J 



lVv*TtV\U\tW J- — % 

Fac-similb op Arnold's Disouisbd Handwriting. 

on the correspondence to Major Andr6, who wrote over the 
signature of •* John Anderson," in a slightly disguised hand. 
Not doubting that " Gustavus " was General Arnold, Andr6 
probably wrote the letter to Mrs. Arnold in August for the 




Ai> a^uu!,^^ ^.^^sJ^^^C^::^^ 






Fac-similb of Andre's Disguised Handwriting. 

purpose of making clear to her husband the name and char- 
acter of " John Anderson " by means of his handwriting : 
Major Andr6 was with Sir Henry Clinton at the siege 



66 THE TWO SPIES. 

and capture of Charleston in the spring of 1780, and there 
is clear evidence that he played the part of a spy in that 
tragedy. It is asserted that Edward Shrewsberry, a respect- 
able citizen of Charleston, but a suspected Tory, was ill at 
his house on East Bay during the siege. His Whig brother, 
who belonged to the American army, frequently visited 
him. He saw at his Tory brother's house, on several occa- 
sions, a young man clad in homespun, who was introduced 
to him as a Virginian, also belonging to the patriot army. 
After the capitulation, and the British were in possession of 
the city, the Continental soldier saw at the house of his sick 
brother the same young man, but in different apparel, who 
was introduced to him as Major Andr6, of the British army. 
His brother afterward confessed that the major and the 
homespun-clad young " Virginian " were one and the same 
man. To another visitor this young man in homespun was 
introduced by Shrewsberry as "a back-country man who 
had brought down cattle for the garrison." He was after- 
ward informed that the cattle-driver was Major Andr6. 

If these assertions be true — and there is no reason for 
doubting their truth — Major Andr6 did not hesitate, when 
an occasion offered, to play the part of a spy fof the benefit 
of his king and country. Six months afterward, when cir- 
cumstances had placed him in that position, and he was a 
prisoner, he expressed, in a letter to Washington, a desire to 
rescue himself from ''an imputation of having assumed a 
mean character for treacherous purposes or self-interest." 

In the early autumn of 1780 Major Andr6 was made adju- 
tant-general of the British forces in America. He was then 
busy in consummating the intrigue and conspiracy with Ar- 
nold. The time had arrived when it had become necessary 
to bring matters to a head — to settle upon a definite plan and 



JOHN ANDR£. 67 

time for action, terms, etc. Arnold had, at his own earnest 
solicitation, been appointed to the command at West Point 
and its dependencies in August, and had resolved to sur- 
render that strong post into the hands of the enemies of his 
country. It was an object of covetous desire on the part of 
the British, for the possession of it would open a free com- 
munication between New York and Canada, which they had 
been endeavoring to secure ever since the invasion of Bur- 
goyne in 1777, The subject of the surrender of West Point 
was the burden of the correspondence between Arnold and 
Andr6 early in September. 

At midsummer, 1780, an occasion drew from Major An- 
dre's pen his most notable satirical poem, in imitation, in 
structure and metre, of the famous old British ballad, 
" Chevy Chase." It appears to have been written for the 
twofold purpose of gratifying his own quick perception of 
the ludicrous and to retaliate in kind the satirical attacks 
of Whig writers upon him and his friends. The occasion 
was an expedition in July against a block -house on the 
west bank of the Hudson, three or four miles below Fort 
Lee, at the base of the Palisades, which was occupied by a 
British picket of seventy men — loyal refugees — for the pro- 
tection of some wood-cutters and the neighboring Tories. 

On Bergen Neck, not far from the block-house, were a 
large number of cattle and horses within reach of the Brit- 
ish foragers who might go out from the fort at Paulus* Hook 
(now Jersey City). Washington sent General Wayne with 
horse and foot — less than two thousand men — to storm the 
block-house and to drive the cattle within the American 
lines. Wayne sent the cavalry under Major Henry Lee 
(" Legion Harry," father of the late General Robert E. Lee, 

of the Confederate army), to perform the latter duty, while 
6 



68 THE TWO SPIES. 

he, with three regiments, marched against the block-house 
with four pieces of light artillery. A brief but sharp skirmish 
ensued. The assailants were compelled to retire, and Wayne 
returned to camp with a large number of cattle driven by 
the dragoons. The failure to capture the block-house was 
attributed to the ineffectualness of the small cannons. 

The "Cow-Chase" was published in Rivington's "Ga- 
zette," the last canto on the day of the author's arrest as a 
spy at Tarrytown. He made copies of the poem for his 
friends. Of one of these, belonging to the late Rev. Dr. 
Sprague, of Albany, I was permitted, in 1849, to make the 
following copy of the poem given in the next chapter ; also 
the fac-simile given of the last stanza of the poem in the 
handwriting of Major Andr6. 



CHAPTER IV. 

COW-CHASE. 

* BY MAJOR JOHN ANDRi. 

EUZABBTHTOWN, AufUtt I, I780. 

CANTO I. 

To drive the kine, one summer's mom. 

The tanner * took his way : 
The calf shall rue that is unborn 

The jumbling of that day. 

And Wayne descending steers shall know. 

And tauntingly deride, 
And call to mind, in ev'ry low. 

The tanning of his hide. 

* Andrtf seems to have been impressed with the idea that the occupation of 
General Wayne, the leader of the expedition, was that of a tanner in his early life. 

A few foot-notes were made to the poem when it was published in England. 
These are here placed in italics. The remainder are by the author of this volume. 



JOHN ANDR£. 69 



Let Bergen cows still ruminate 

Unconscious in the stall. 
What mighty means were used to get. 

And lose them after all. 

For many heroes bold and brave 

From New Bridge and Tapaan, 
And those that drink Passaic's wave. 

And those that eat soupaan ; * 

And sons of distant Delaware, 

And still remoter Shannon, 
And Major Lee with horses rare. 

And Proctor with his cannon — 

All wondrous proud in arms they came f 

What hero could refuse 
To tread the rugged path to fame. 

Who had a pair of shoes ? t 

At six the host, with sweating buff. 

Arrived at Freedom's Pole, % 
When Wayne, who thought he'd time enough. 

Thus speechified the whole : 

O ye whom glory doth unite. 

Who Freedom's cause espouse. 
Whether the wing that's doomed to fight. 

Or that to drive the cows ; 

Ere yet you tempt your further way. 

Or into action come, 
Hear, soldiers, what I have to say, 
' And take a pint of rum.* 

Intemperate valor then will string 
Elach nervous arm the better, . 



* A hasty-pudding made of the meat of Indian com, 

f This is in allusion to the fact that many of the American soldiers, at that 
time, were without shoes or stockings. 

t Freedom* s^ f . ^., Hberty-pole — a long stich stuch in the ground, 

* Rum was the usual kind of spirituous liquor that formed a portion of the 
rations of the soldiers. 



JO 



THE TIVO SPIES. 

So all the land shall 10 I sing, 
And read the gen'ral's letter. * 

** Know that some paltry refugees. 
Whom I've a mind to fight. 
Are playing h — 1 among the trees 
That grow on yonder height I 

" Their fort and block-house well level. 
And deal a horrid slaughter ; 
We'll drive the scoundrels to the devil. 
And ravish wife and daughter. 

** I under cover of th' attack. 
Whilst you are all at blows. 
From English Neighb'rhood and Tinack 
Will drive away the cows. 

" For well you know the latter is 
The serious operation. 
And fighting with the refugees t 
Is only— demonstration." 

His daring words from all the crowd 
Such great applause did gain. 

That every man declared aloud 
For serious work with — Wayne; 

Then from the cask of rum once more 

They took a heavy gill. 
When one and all they loudly swore 

They'd fight upon the hill. 

But here — the Muse has not a strain 

Befitting such great deeds : 
*• Hurra," they cried, " hurra for Wayne I 

And, shouting — did their needs. 



»• 



* In his letter to Congress (July 26, 1780) concerning this expedition, Washing- 
ton spoke of die American cannons being " too light to penetrate the logs of which 
it [the block-house] was constructed." He also attributed the great loss of die 
Americans in that attack to the " intemperate valor " of the men. Andr^ exercised 
a poetical license in putting these words into the mouth of Wayne before the 
occurrence. 

f Loyalists expelled from the American lines. 



JOHN ANDR£. ji 



CANTO II. 

Near his meridian pomp the sun 
Had journeyed from th' horizon. 

When fierce the dusky tribe moved on. 
Of heroes drunk as poison. 

The sounds confused, of boasting oaths^ 
Re-echoed through the wood : 

Some vowed to sleep in dead men's clothes, 
And some to swim in blood. 

At Irvine's nod, 'twas fine to see 

The left prepared to fight. 
The while the drovers, Wayne and Lee 

Drew off upon the right. 

Which Irvine 'twas Fame don't relate. 
Nor can the Muse assist her—; 

Whether 'twas he that cocks a hat. 
Or he that gives a glister. 

For greatly one was signalized. 

That fought at Chestnut Hill, 
And Canada immortalized 

The vender of the pill.* 

Yet the attendance upon Proctor 
They both might have to boast of ; 

For there was business for the doctor. 
And hats to be disposed of. 

Let none uncandidly infer 

That Stirling wanted spunk. 
The self-made Peert had sure been there. 

But that the Peer was drunk. 



* One of the Irvines was a hatter^ the other was a physiciem. It was probably 
the latter — Dr. William Irvine — who was in this expedition, for he was then in com- 
mand of the Second Pennsylvania Regiment. He had been a captain in Canada 
about two years. Brigadier-General Irvine was made a prisoner at Chestnut Hill, 
near Philadelphia, in December, 1777. 

f William Alexander, Lord Stirling, was a general in the Continental army. 
He had been frustrated in obtaining a Scottish estate and peerage to which he was 
clearly entitled. He assumed the title as a right 



72 THE TWO SPIES. 

But turn we to the Hudson's banks. 
Where stood the modest train. 

With purpose firm, though slender ranks. 
Nor cared a pin for Wayne. 

For then the unrelenting hand 

Of rebel fury drove. 
And tore from ev'ry genial hand 

Of friendship and of love. 

And some within a dungeon's gloom. 

By mock tribunals laid, 
Had waited long a cruel doom. 

Impending o'er their head. 

Here one bewails a brother's fate. 
There one a sire demands. 

Cut off, alas ! before their date, 
By ignominious hands. 

And silvered grandsires here appeared 

In deep distress serene. 
Of reverend manners that declared 

The better days they'd seen. 

Oh ! cursed rebellion, these are thine. 
Thine are these tales of woe ; 

Shall at thy dire, insatiate shrine 
Blood never cease to flow ? 

And now the foe began to lead 
His forces to the attack ; 

Balls whistling unto balls succeed, 
And make the block-house crack. 

No shot could pass, if you will take 
The gen'ral's word for true ; ♦ 

But 'tis a d le mistake, 

For ev'ry shot went through. 



* General Wayne reported that, owing to the lightness of his field-pieces, the 
shot did not penetrate the logs of the block-house. 



JOHN andrL 73 

The firmer as the rebels pressed, 

The loyal heroes stand ; 
Virtue had nerved each honest breast. 

And industry each hand. 

In valor's frenzy, Hamilton * 

Rode like a soldier big. 
And Secretary Harrison f 

With pen stuck in his wig. 

But, lest chieftain Washington 

Should mourn them in the mumps,t 
The fate of Withington to shun. 

They fought behind the stumps. • 

But ah ! Thaddeus Posset, why 

Should thy poor soul elope ? 
And why should Titus Hooper die — 

Ah I die without a rope ? 

Apostate Murphy, thou to whom 

Fair Shela ne'er was cruel ; 
In death shalt hear her mourn thy doom, 

" Och ! would ye die, my jewel ? " 

Thee, Nathan Pumpkin, I lament. 

Of melancholy fate ; 
The gray goose, stolen as he went. 

In his heart's blood was wet. 

* Vide Leis trial. General Charles Lee, in his testimony at his trial by coart- 
martial, after the battle of Monmouth, spoke of " Colonel Hamilton flourishing his 
sword " after delivering a message from Washington on the battle-field, and say- 
ing, *' * I will stay, and we will all die here on this spot.' I could not but be sur- 
prised," said Lee, " at his expression, but observed him much fluttered, and in a 
sort of frenry of valor." 

f Richard Harrison, Washington's secretary. 
X A disorder prevalent in the rebel lines, 

• The merit of these lines ^ whieh is doubtless very greats ean only be felt by true 
connoisseurs conversant in ancient song. In " Chevy Chase " occurs the stanza : 

" For Witherington needs must I wayle. 
As one in doleful dumps ; 
For when his legges were smitten off. 
He fought upon his stumps." 



74 THE TWO SPIES. 

Now, as the fight was further fought, 
And balls began to thicken. 

The fray assumed, the gen'rals thought. 
The color of a licking. 

Yet undismayed, the chiefs command. 

And, to redeem the day. 
Cry, " Soldiers, chaige ! " They hear, they 

They turn and run away ! 



CANTO III. 

Not all delights the bloody spear. 

Or horrid din of battle ; 
There are, I'm sure, who'd like to hear 

A word about the rattle. 

The chief whom we beheld of late 
Near Schralenberg haranguing. 

At Yan Van Poop's * unconscious sat 
Of Irvine's hearty banging ; 

While valiant Lee, with courage wild. 

Most bravely did oppose 
The tears of women and of child. 

Who begged he'd leave the cows. 

But Wayne, of sympathizing heart, 

Required a relief 
Not all the blessings could impart 

Of battle or of beef. 

For now a prey to female charms. 
His soul took mbre delight in 

A lovely Hamadryad's! arms. 
Than cow-driving or fighting. 

A nymph, the refugees had drove 

Far from her native tree, 
Just happened to be on the move. 

When up came Wayne and Lee. 

* Who hfpt a dram^ho^, f A deity 



JOHN ANDRt. 75 

She in mad Anthony's fierce eye 

The hero saw portrayed. 
And, all in tears, she took him by 

The bridle of his jade.* 

" Hear," said the nymph, " O great commander. 

No human lamentations ; 
The trees you see them cutting yonder 

Are all my near relations. 

" And I, foriom, implore thine aid 

To free the sacred grove ; 
So shall thy prowess be repaid 

With an immortal's love." 

Now some, to prove she was a goddess. 

Said this enchanting fair 
Had late retired from the Bodus\ 

In all the pomp of war ; 

That drums and merry fifes had played 

To honor her retreat. 
And Cunningham X himself conveyed 

The lady through the street. 

Great Wayne, by soft compassion swayed, 

To no inquiry stoops. 
But takes the fair, afflicted maid 

Right into Van Van Poop's. 

So Roman Anthony, they say. 

Disgraced the imperial banner, 
And for a gypsy lost a day, 

Like Anthony the tanner. 

The Hamadryad had but half 

Received redress from Wayne, 
When drums and colors, cow and calf, 

Came down the road amain. 

* A New England name far a horse ^ mare, or gelding, 

f A cant appellation given among the soldiers to the corps that has the honor to 
guard his Majesty* s person — a body-guard, 

} William Cunningham, the veteran provost-marshal at New York. 



76 THE TWO SPIES. 

m 

All in a cloud of dust were seen 

The sheep, the horse, the goat. 
The gentle heifer, ass obscene. 

The yearling, and the shoat. 

And pack-horses with fowls came by, 

Befeathered on each side. 
Like Pegasus, the horse that I 

And other poets ride. 

Sublime upon the stirrups rose 

The mighty Lee behind. 
And drove the terror-smitten cows 

Like chafiF before the wind ! 

But sudden see the woods above 

Pour down another corps. 
All helter-skelter in a drove. 

Like that I sung before. 

Irvine and terror in the van 

Came flying all abroad. 
And cannon, colors, horse, and man. 

Ran tumbling to the road. 

Still as he fled, 'twas Irvine's cry. 

And his example too : 
" Run on, my merry men, all— for why ? " 

The shot will not go through. 

Five refugees, 'tis true, were found 

Stiff on the block-house floor ; 
But then, 'tis thought, the shot went round. 

And in at the back door ! 

As when two kennels in the street, . 

Swelled with a recent rain. 
In gushing streams together meet. 

And seek the neighboring drain — 

So meet these dung-bom tribes in one. 

As swift in their career. 
And so to New Bridge they ran on. 

But all the cows got clear. 



JOHN ANDRt. jj 

Poor Parson Caldwell, all in wonder, 

Saw the returning train, 
And mourned to Wayne the lack of plunder, 

For them to steal again.* 

For 'twas his right to seize the spoil, and 

To share with each commander. 
As he had done at Staten Island 

With frost-bit Alexander.! 

In his dismay, the frantic priest 

Began to grow prophetic. 
You had swore, to see his lab*ring breast, 

He'd taken an emetic I 



« 
ft 



I view a future day," said he. 
Brighter than this day dark is, . 
And you shall see what you shall see, 
Ha I ha I one pretty marquis ; % 

'* And he shall come to Paulus Hook,* 
And great achievements think on, 

And make a bow and take a look. 
Like Satan over Lincoln. 

" And all the land around shall glory 
To see the Frenchn^en caper. 

And pretty Susan | tell the story 
In the next Chatham paper." 



* Rev. James Caldwell, an earnest Whig of New Jersey, and pastor of a church • 
at Connecticut Farms. His wife had been shot by a newly enlisted soldier in her 
own house, when the British, under Knyphausen, made a raid upon Springfield 
in 1778. 

f Calling himself^ because he was ordered not to do it^ Earl of Stirling^ though 
no sterling earl (See foot-note, page 71.) In a winter expedition to Staten Island 
a larger proportion of his soldiers were frost-bitten. 

} Lafayette. 

• Now Jersey City, where the British had a redoubt. This Major Henry Lee 
surprised, in August, 1779. A>^d carried away one hundred and fifty-nine of the gar- 
rison prisoners. 

I Mrs. Susannah Livingston, a daughter of Governor William Livingston, of 
New Jersey, who was suspected of political authorship. 



78 THE TWO SPIES. 

This aoleinn prophecy, of course. 
Gave all much consolatkm ; 

Except to Wayne, who lost his horse 
Upon the great occasioQ — 

His horse that carried all his prog. 

His military speeches. 
His corn-stalk whisky for his grog — 

Blue stockings and brown breeches. 

And now I've dosed my epic strain, 
I tremble as I show it. 

Lest this same warrio-drover, Wayne, 
Should ever catch the poet* 







Fac-similb op the last Stanza op the Cow-Chase. 



CHAPTER V. 

We have seen that Arnold, at his own earnest solici- 
tation, had been appointed to the command of West Point 
in August, 1780. It was then kno^n to Sir Henry Clinton 

* It so happened that when Andr^ was taken to Tappaan he was delivered to the 

custody of Wayne. The latter was not a member of the board of inquiry. Frank 

Moore says that, under Andre's signature to a MS. copy of the " Cow-Chase,*' some 

one wrote : 

" When the epic strain was sung, 

The poet by the neck was hung, 

And to his cost he finds, too late. 

The ' dung-bom tribe ' decides his fate." 



• JOHN andr£:. 79 

that " Gustavus " was no other than General Arnold. Every- 
thing was ripe for the consummation of the plot ; both par- 
ties were anxious for the end. 

It was. a gloomy hour in the history of the great struggle, 
aside from the contemplated act of foul treason. Charleston 
had fallen in May, and an American army there had been 
made prisoners. Gates had been defeated near Camden in 
August, and another American army dispersed. The South 
was in possession of the enemy ; New Jersey was in nearly 
the same condition, and on Manhattan Island lay a strong 
army of veteran British soldiers. This was the moment 
sagaciously chosen by Arnold to strike a fatal blow at the 
liberties of his country. 

At the close of August Arnold wrote to Andr6, in the 
usual disguise of commercial phrases, demanding a personal 
interview at an American outpost in Westchester County, 
the latter to come in the disguise of "John Anderson," a 
bearer of intelligence from New York. But Andr6 was not 
disposed to enter the American lines in disguise. A meeting 
of Andr6 and Beverly Robinson with General Arnold, at 
Dobb's Ferry, on the neutral ground, on September nth, 
was arranged ; but the interview was prevented by provi- 
dential interposition — an interposition in favor of the Ameri- 
can cause so conspicuously manifested in every stage of this 
conspiracy. 

Washington had made arrangements for a conference, at 
Hartford, on the 20th of September, with the Count de Ro- 
chambeau, the commander of the French forces, then at 
Newport, Rhode Island, who had come to assist the Ameri- 
cans in their struggle. It was arranged between Arnold and 
Andr6 that the surrender of West Point should take place 
during Washington's absence. A personal interview for the 



8o THE TWO SPIES. 

purpose of settling everything concerning the great transac- 
tion was absolutely necessary, and a meeting of the complot- 
ters was appointed to take place on the night of the 21st of 
September, on the west side of the Hudson, in a lonely spot 
not far from the hamlet of Haverstraw. 

Beverly Robinson and a few others were sharers in the 
great secret ; and there were vague rumors in the air that 
Major Andr6 was engaged in an enterprise which, if success- 
ful, would end the war, and redound to his honor and secure 
him great renown — a baronetcy and a brigadiership, per- 
haps. It is said that Sir Henry Clinton promised these re- 
wards to his adjutant-general. In confirmation of the truth 
of this assertion, an incident that occurred on the. day when 
Andr6 left New York to meet Arnold may here be cited. 

On the 20th of September (1780) Colonel Williams, whose 
headquarters were in the Kip mansion, at Kip's Bay, foot of 
(present) Thirty-fourth Street, East River, gave a dinner- 
party to General Sir Henry Clinton and his staiT. It was a 
beautiful, sunny day, and there were exuberant Tories around 
the banquet-table on that occasion. The spirits of Sir Henry 
were specially buoyant, for he was anticipating a great vic- 
tory in the near future. His accomplished adjutant-general. 
Major Andr6, was with him. 

When the band had ceased playing the favorite dinner 
air, " The Roast Beef of Old England," many toasts were 
drunk. At length Colonel Williams arose and said: *'Sir 
Henry, our adjutant-general appears very dull this after- 
noon. We all know what a brave soldier, what a genial 
companion, what a charming song-bird he is ; and yet music 
is, perhaps, the least among his accomplishments. I call 
upon the adjutant-general for a song." Colonel Williams 
then said, " Gentlemen, I offer the toast, ' Major John Andr6, 



JOHN ANDR£, 8 1 

our worthy adjutant-general, the brave soldier and accom- 
plished gentleman.' " 

The toast was greeted with great applause. Then Andr6 
arose and said : " Yes, Colonel Williams, I do feel rather se- 
rious this afternoon, and I can give no particular reason for 
it. I will sing, however, as you request me- to." Then he 
sang, with great sweetness and much pathos, the old familiar 
camp-song, beginning^- 

" Why, soldiers, why, 
Should we be melancholy, boys ? 
Why, soldiers, why, 
Whose business 'tis to die ! 
For should next campaign 
Send us to Him who made us, boys. 
We're free from pain ; 
But should we remain, 
A bottle and kind landlady 
Makes all well again." 

With a trembling and husky voice the usually gay young 
soldier thanked the company for the honor they had done 
him, when Sir Henry said : " A word in addition, gentlemen, 
if you please. The major leaves the city on duty to-night, 
which will most likely terminate in making plain John An- 
dr6 Sir John Andr6 — for success must crown his efforts." 

Major Andr6 left thjB hilarious company with a counte- 
nance saddened by an indefinable presentiment of impend- 
ing disaster, and departed on that fatal mission involved in 
his complot with General Arnold. 

Andr6 went up the Hudson that evening in the sloop- 
of-war Vulture, twenty-four, to have the arranged personal 
interview with Arnold. He was accompanied by Beverly 
Robinson. The vessel was anchored between Teller's (now 
Croton) Point and Verplanck's Point, and lay there all the 



82 



THE TWO SPIES. 



next day. Arnold had agreed to send a boat to the Vulturt 
to convey Andr^ to the shore at the appointed time. For 
that service he had employed Joshua H. Smith, an intimate 
acquaintance and a gentleman farmer, at whose house Mrs. 
Arnold had been entertained a few days before, while on her 
way to join her husband at his headquarters. Smith's house 
is yet standing, upon an eminence known as Treason Hill, 
between Stony Point and Haverstraw. It overlooks a pict- 
uresque region, with Haverstraw Bay in the foreground. 




Thb Smith Houbx. 

The place appointed for the meeting of the conspirators 
was at a lonely spot in a thicket at the foot of Torn Mount- 
ain, near the west shore of the Hudson, about two miles 
below Haverstraw. It was outside the American lines. 
Smith appeared in a small boat, with two stout oarsmen, 
at the side of the Vulture at midnight. Andr6 was ready to 
accompany him. He covered his scarlet uniform with a 



JOHN ANDRL 83 

long blue surtout. Clinton had instructed him to have 
nothing to do with papers of any kind, and ' he went ashore 
empty-handed. 

It was a little past midnight when Andr6 was landed on 
the beach at the mduth of a little creek. He was conducted 
by Smith to Arnold's place of concealment, and there in 
the dimmed starlight these notable conspirators, who had 
long communed through mysterious epistles, met face to 
face for the first time. At Arnold's request, Smith went 
back to his boat to await the return of Andr6, who was to 
be conveyed again to the Vulture before daybreak. 

The interview was long protracted. It was not ended 
when the eastern horizon began to kindle with the dawn. 
Both men were anxious to complete the business at that time. 
Arnold had two horses with him, one of them ridden by his 
servant. He now proposed that Andr6 should mount his 
servant's horse and ride with him to Smith's house and 
there complete the arrangement. The major reluctantly 
consented to do so, with the understanding that he was to 
be conveyed to the Vulture as soon as possible. 

As the two horsemen approached the little hamlet of 
Haverstraw they were challenged by a sentinel. Andr6 
was alarmed. He was, unwittingly, within the American 
lines ; but he had gone too far, however, to recede, and they 
rode on together to Smith's house. By ten o'clock they had 
finished their business, when Arnold, after handing Andr6 
some papers containing all needed information concerning 
the post to be surrendered, departed in his barge for West 
Point. 

It had been arranged that Sir Henry Clinton should 
ascend the Hudson with a strong force on the 25th, and 
attack the important post ; and Arnold, after making a show 



84 THE TWO SPIES. 

of resistance, should surrender it, with all the men and muni- 
tions of war, on the plea of the weakness of the garrison. A 
part of the plan was the seizure of Washington, who was to 
return on the 27th. For this service the traitor was to re- 
ceive from the king the commission of brigadier-general in 
the royal army, and fifty thousand dollars in gold. The sur- 
render was not effected, but Arnold received the commis- 
sion, and nearly forty thousand dollars in gold. 

When the conspirators arrived at Smith's house at sun- 
rise, Andr6 was alarmed at the disappearance of the Vfilture. 
She had been cannonaded from Verplanck's Point, and com- 
pelled to drop down the river. 

Just after the departure of Arnold, the Vulture reap- 
peared at her anchorage of the night before. Andr6 urged 
Smith to take him to the sloop immediately, but he declined, 
giving various reasons for his conduct. He was really afraid 
to perform the service, and the British adjutant-general was 
kept in a state of great anxiety on Treason Hill until even- 
ing. Arnold had intimated that the major might be com- 
pelled to cross the river and return to New York by land. 
To provide for any contingency, he furnished passports, one 
to secure to Andr6 a safeguard through the American posts 
to the neutral ground, and another to secure such safety in 
passing down the river in a boat to Dobb's Ferry. 

Smith decided that Andr6 must return by land. He 
tried to procure an American imiform for the major's dis- 
guise, but could not, and his guest was compelled to accept 
an old purple or crimson coat, trimmed with threadbare 
gold lace, and a tarnished beaver hat belonging to Smith. 
The rest of his suit was his military undress, nankeen small- 
clothes, and white-topped boots. His long surtout with 
a cape covered all. 



JOHN ANDR£. 85 

In violation of Clinton's positive orders, Andr6 took 
away the papers which Arnold had given him. These he 
concealed in his stockings beneath his feet. So equipped, 
and bearing Arnold's passports, Andr6 mounted a black 
horse which the American general had provided for his use, 
and at twilight, accompanied by Smith and his negro ser- 
vant, he crossed the river at the King's Ferry, went safely 
through the American works at Verplanck's Point, and re- 
luctantly spent the night at a farm-house below the Croton 
River, within the American lines. The travelers slept to- 
gether. It was a weary and restless night for Andr6. They 
arose early and rode on some distance together. After 
breakfast they parted company at Pine's bridge, Andr6 
pushing on within the neutral ground. He was induced to 
leave the road leading to the White Plains, which he had 
been directed to take, and, turning westward at Chappaqua, 
he followed another road nearer the river, which led him to 
Tarrytown. This was a fatal mistake. 

The neutral ground, extending from King's Bridge nearly 
to the Croton River, was swarming with Tories. It was the 
region of great manors, whose owners were loyalists, and 
their retainers were their political followers. It was a most 
uncomfortable dwelling-place for the comparatively few 
Whig inhabitants. It was infested with gangs of marauders, 
who were called " cow-boys." They were constantly steal- 
ing the cattle of the Whigs and driving them off to the 
British army in New York. The patriotic inhabitants, espe- 
cially the young men, armed themselves in defense of their 
property. 

On the morning of Friday, the 23d of September (1780), 
seven young men, farmers and neighbors — John Paulding, 
Isaac Van Wart, David Williams, John Yerks and three 



86 THE TWO SPIES. 

others — were out on a scout together. They seem to have 
been a sort of guerrillas, acting independently in intercept- 
ing marauders and arresting suspicious-looking travelers. 
Paulding had been a prisoner in New York a short time 
before, and had escaped in the disguise of a Hessian coat 
which a friend had procured for him. This coat he now 
wore. 

Three of the four young men above named were playing 
cards in a thicket near the highway, half a mile from Tarry- 
town, at about nine o'clock in the morning, when a well- 
dressed horseman approached on a black steed. He was a 
stranger, and the young men concluded to stop him and in- 
quire about his errand. Paulding, who was the leader of 
the little band, stepped out of the bushes with his musket, 
and ordered the traveler to halt and give an account of himr 
self. Seeing Paulding with a British military coat on, and 
knowing that he was far below the American lines and 
nearer those of the British, the horseman said to the three 
young scouts : 

" My lads, I hope you belong to our party." 

" What party ? " asked Paulding. 

" The lower party— the British." 

" We do," said Paulding. 

Completely thrown oflf his guard, the traveler exclaimed 
with much animation : " Thank God, I am once more 
among friends ! I am a British officer, out in the country 
on particular business, and hope you will not detain me a 
minute." 

" We are Americans," said Paulding, seizing the bridle 
of the horse, "and you are our prisoner.** 

The traveler was shocked, but, assuming composure, he 
said, *' I must do anything to get along," and with apparent 



JOHN ANDRt, 87 

unconcern he pulled from his pocket Arnold's passport, 
which read : 

" Headquarters, Robinson's House, SepUmber aa^ ty8o, 

" Permit Mr. John Anderson to pass the guards to the 
White Plains, or below if he chooses, he being on public 
business by my direction. 

B. Arnold, Majar-Generaiy 



0ryf 



a 





(kU^^^ ,/^^asP-/Z^^ 








Arnold's Passport. 

The suspicions of the young men were now thoroughly 
aroused. Making the traveler dismount, they searched 
every part of his clothing, but found nothing of importance. 

" Try his boots,*' said Van Wart. 

They compelled him to sit upon a log by the road-side, 
and, pulling off his boots, they discovered, by the bagging 



88 THE TWO SPIES. 

of his stocking-feet, several papers. These Paulding, the 
only one of the young men who could read, glanced over 
and exclaimed : 

•* My God ! he is a spy ! " 

Major John Andr6, adjutant-general of the British 
army, was their prisoner, but they did not know iL They 
believed that he was a British officer, as he himself at first 
announced. They questioned him closely about the papers 
in his boots, but he became very reticent He offered them 
large bribes to induce them to let him pass. He offered 
them his gold watch. They refused. '' I will g^ve you a 
hundred guineas and any amount of dry goods," he said. 
They refused. " I will g^ve you a thousand guineas," he 
said, '' and you can hold me as a hostage till one of your 
number return with the money." 

" We would not let you go for ten thousand guineas ! '* 
said Paulding, in a loud voice. That decision settled the fate 
of Andr6. 

The prisoner then requested his captors to take him to 
the nearest American post, and ask him no more questions. 
They complied. He was seated on his horse, which one of 
them alternately led, while the others marched alongside as 
guards. 

Such was the story of Andre's capture, as related by the 
three young men. Major Andr6 declared that the sole 
object of the captors in arresting him was evidently plun- 
der; that they searched every part of him, even his saddle 
and his boots, for gold ; and that, if he had possessed suffi- 
cient in specie (he had only some Continental bills), he might 
have easily persuaded them to let him go. But the prepon- 
derance of contemporary testimony is in favor of the caj)- 
tors' story. Washington wrote to Congress : 



JOHN ANDRk. 89 

"Their conduct merits our warmest est^m, and I beg 
leave to add that I think the public would do well to grant 
them a handsome gratuity. They have prevented, in all 
prabability, our suffering one of the severest strokes that 
could have been meditated against us." 

Congress complimented the captors on their fidelity and 
patriotism by a resolution of thanks, ordered that an annuity 
of two hundred dollars in specie should be paid to each out 
of the public treasury, and directed the Board of War to 




(From a MiDiatore 



have a silver medal of appropriate design struck and given 
to each. These medals Washington presented to the cap. 
tors in person. Tradition tells us that Andrd would un- 



90 THE TWO SPIES. 

dQubtedly haye been released but for the strong will and 
patriotic impulses of John Paulding, then only twenty-two 
years of age. 

Andr6 was delivered to Lieutenant-Colonel Jameson, 
then in command of Sheldon's dragoons and a few Connecti- 
cut militia at North Salem. That honest officer believed 
the captive to be what Arnold's passport proclaimed him, 
simply " John Anderson," on public business by direction of 
his general, and treated him very kindly as such. The pris- 
oner requested Jameson to inform Arnold that John An- 
derson was a captive, in* his custody. The honest, unsus- 
picious Jameson complied. He wrote to Arnold to this 
effect, explaining how Anderson came to be a prisoner, and 
concluded that the simplest way in the matter would be to 
send the captive to Arnold with the letter! He detailed 
Lieutenant Allen and four of the militia to take both to 
headquarters, and at the same time sent the papers found in 
Andr6*s boot by express to Washington, who was then on 
his way from Hartford. 

Andr6 was delighted by the turn affairs had taken, for 
now there appeared a way of escape for both Arnold and 
himself. The escort with the prisoner were some distance 
on their way, when Major Benjamin Tallmadge, a vigilant 
and active officer of the dragoons, returned to Jameson's 
quarters after a brief absence. Learning all about the 
capture and the nature of the papers found on the prisoner, 
he at once pronounced him a spy and Arnold a traitor. 
He persuaded Jameson to order the return of the prisoner, 
agreeing to bear all blame himself for the act. The cap- 
tive was brought back, but, unfortunately, Allen proceeded 
alone with Jameson's letter to Arnold. 

Andr6 was committed to the care of Lieutenant King, of 



JOHN ANDRt. 91 

the dragoons, who was convinced, by the prisoner's manner 
and other tokens, that he was no ordinary man. Finally, the 
captive requested King to walk with him in a large yard 
attached to the house in which they were, when the pris- 
oner said, " I must make a confidant of somebody, and I 
know not a more proper person than yourself, you have 
treated me so kindly." He then made a full confession of 
his rank, and gave a brief narrative of his career in America 
since his capture at St. Johns. Procuring writing materials, 
he wrote the following letter to Washington : 

" Salem, thi M4tk September^ lySo. 

" Sir : What I have as yet said concerning myself was in 
the justifiable attempt to be extricated. I am too little accus- 
tomed to duplicity to have succeeded. 

" I beg your Excellency will be persuaded that no alter- 
ation in the temper of my mind, or apprehension for my safe- 
ty, induces me to take the step of addressing you, but that it 
is to rescue myself from an imputation of having assumed a 
mean character for treacherous purposes or self-interest, a 
conduct incompatible with the principles which actuate me, 
as well as my condition in life. It is to vindicate my fame 
that I speak, and not to solicit security. The person in your 
possession is Major John Andr6, adjutant-general in the Brit- 
ish army. 

" The influence of one commander with another in the 
army of his adversary is an advantage taken in war. A cor- 
respondence for this purpose I held, as confidential, in the 
present instance, with his Excellency Sir Henry Clinton. 

" To favor it, I agreed to meet upon ground not within 
the posts of either army a person who was to give me intel- 
ligence. I came up in the Vulture man-of-war for this effect. 



92 



THE TWO SPIES. 



and was fetched by a boat from the shore to the beach ; be- 
ing there, I was told that the approach of day would prevent 
my return, and that I must be concealed until the. next night. 
I was in my regimentals, and had fairly risked my person. 

" Against my stipulation and without my knowledge be- 
forehand, I was conducted within one of your posts. Your 
Excellency will conceive my sensation on this occasion, and 
will imagine how much more I must have been affected, by 
a refusal to reconduct me back the next night as I had been 
brought. Thus become a prisoner, I had to concert my 
escape. I quitted my uniform, and was passed another way 
in the night, without the American posts to neutral ground, 
and informed I was beyond all armed parties, and left to 
press for New York. I was taken at Tarry town by some 
volunteers. Thus, as I have had the honor to relate, was I 
betrayed (being adjutant-general of the British army) into 
the vile condition of an enemy in disguise within your posts. 

" Having avowed myself a British officer, I have nothing 
to reveal but what relates to myself, which is true, on the 
honor of an officer and a gentleman. The request I have to 
make to your Excellency, and I am conscious I address myself 
well, that in any rigor feeling may dictate, a decency of con- 
duct toward me may mark, that, though unfortunate, I am 
branded with nothing dishonorable, as no motive could be 
mine but the service of my King, and as I was an involuntary 
impostor. 

" Another request is, that I may be permitted to write 
an open letter to Sir Henry Clinton, and another to a friend 
for clothes and linen. 

" I take the liberty to mention the condition of some 
gentlemen at Charlestown, who, being either on parole or 
under protection, were engaged in a conspiracy against us. 



JOHN ANDRt. 93 

Though their situation is not exactly similar, they are ob- 
jects who may be set in exchange for me, or are persons 
whom the treatment I receive may affect. 

" It is no less, sir, in a confidence in the generosity of 
your mind, than on account of your superior station, that I 
have chosen to importune you with this letter. 

" I have the honor to be, with great respect, sir, your 
Excellency's most obedient and most humble servant, 

"John Andr£, Adjutant-General. 

" His Excellency General Washington/' 



CHAPTER VI. 

Washington lodged at Fishkill, eighteen miles from 
West Point, on the night of September 24th, and early the 
next morning (the day appointed for Clinton to ascend the 
river and receive the surrender of the post in the Highlands) 
he and his companions reached the vicinity of Arnold's quar- 
ters, where they intended to breakfast. He and two or three 
officers turned aside to inspect a redoubt, while Lafayette, 
Hamilton, and other young officers, rode forward with a 
message from their chief to Mrs. Arnold, bidding her not to 
delay breakfast on his account. 

While these officers were at table with Arnold and his 
wife, a courier arrived with a letter to the general. It was 
Jameson's letter, brought by Allen, telling Arnold of the 
arrest of " John Anderson,** and the sending of the papers 
found in his boots to Washington. Arnold glanced at the 
letter, sat a few minutes in general conversation, and then 
asked to be excused. His wife perceived anxiety in his 
countenance, and, leaving the table, followed him out of 



94 ™^ TWO SPIES. 

the room. He commanded Allen not to mention that he 
had brought a letter from Jameson ; ordered a horse to be 
saddled and brought to the door immediately, and ascend- 
ing to his wife's chamber, to which she had retired, he told 
her in a few hurried words of his perilous situation, and that 
his life depended upon his instant flight and reaching the 
British lines in safety. 

This awful message smote the young wife and mother 
fearfully. She. screamed and fell at his feet in a swoon. He 
had not a moment to lose. Leaving her in the care of her 
maid, he kissed their sleeping babe and hurried to the break- 
fast-room. Telling the guests that his wife had been taken 
ill suddenly, and that he was called in haste over to West 
Point and would return presently, he mounted the horse at 
the door, dashed down the bridle-path to the river half a 
mile distant, snatched his pistols from the holsters as he dis- 
mounted, and, summoning the crew of his barge, he entered 
it and ordered them to pull into the middle of the stream 
and row swiftly down the river, for he bore a flag to the 
Vulture^ and must return soon to meet General Washington. 

Arnold sat in the prow of his barge. When they came 
in sight of the Vulture he raised a white handkerchief upon 
a walking-stick. They soon reached the vessel. Arnold as- 
cended to her deck, where he met Colonel Robinson, and 
briefly related to him the unhappy state of affairs. He tried, 
in vain, to lure the crew of his barge into the king's service. 
" If General Arnold likes the King of England, let him serve 
him ; we love our country, and mean to live or die in sup- 
port of her cause," indignantly exclaimed James Larvey, the 
coxswain. " So will we," said his companions. They were 
sent on shore at Teller's Point by the same flag. Arnold 
sent a letter to Washington, covering one to his wife. He as- 



JOHN ANDRS. 



95 



sured the commander-in-chief that his wife was innocent of 
all knowledge of his act, and entreated him to extend his 
protection to her and Her child. He also exonerated his 
military family from all participation in his designs. 

By the same flag Colonel Robinson wrote to Washing- 
ton, asserting that, under the circumstances which led to 
Andre's arrest, he could not detain him without " the great- 
est violation of flags and contrary to the usage of all na- 
tions " ; and, assuming that the American commander would 
see the matter in the same light, he desired that he would 
order Major Andr^ to be "set at liberty, and allowed to 
return immediately." 

The Vulture returned to New York the same evening, 
and early the next morning Arnold conveyed to General 




The ROBtNSOH HOUBE. — (From > Sketch b; Uk Aulhor In 1849.) 

Clinton the first intelligence of the capture of Major Andr^. 
Let us go back to Arnold's quarters at Robinson's house, in 
the Highlands. 

Washington arrived at Arnold's quarters an hour after 



96 THE TWO SPIES. 

the traitor's flight. Informed of the illness of Mrs. Arnold, 
and that her husband had gone over to West Point, the 
chief took a hurried breakfast and proceeded thither with 
all his staff, excepting Colonel Hamilton. As they touched 
the west shore of the river they were surprised at not re- 
ceiving the usual cannon-salute. 

" Is not General Arnold here ? " Washington asked Colo- 
nel Lamb. 

" No, sir," Lamb replied ; " he has not been here for two 
days, nor have I heard from him in that time." 

Meanwhile Hamilton, as Washington's private secretary, 
had received and examined the papers taken from Andre's 
stocking; also the letters of Jameson, and that of the pris- 
oner to Washington revealing the conspiracy. Hamilton 
immediately sought his chief. He met him on his way up 
from the river, and told him of his discovery of Arnold's 
treason and of his flight to the Vulture. Men were dis- 
patched to Verplanck's Point to intercept him, but they 
arrived too late. An order was sent to Colonel Jameson 
to forward Andr6 to West Point immediately. He said to 
Lafayette and Knox, sadly : 

" Arnold is a traitor ! Whom can we trust now ? " The 
whole plot was revealed, and the danger impending over 
the post was made manifest. 

Yet Washington gave no outward sign of excitement. He 
sent couriers in all directions with orders for the strength- 
ening of every redoubt, and ordered Greene to put the army 
at Tappaan in readiness to move toward West Point at a 
moment's warning. But it was soon evident that the danger 
was overpast. Informed of Mrs. Arnold's sad condition, he 
said to one of his aides, " Go to her and inform her that, 
though my duty required that no means should be neglected 



JOHN ANDR&. 



97 



to arrest General Arnold, I have great pleasure in acquaint- 
ing her that be is now safe on board a British vessel of war." 

Andr£ was brought to the Robinson house early on the 
26th (September, 1780). He had been aroused from slumber 
at midnight to begin a dreary journey in a falling rain, un- 
der a strong escort led by Lieutenant King. . On the way 
they were joined by Major Tallmadge and one or two other 
officers. Tallmadge was made the special custodian of the 
prisoner from that time until his execution ; and on thp 
evening of the 26th Andri was conveyed to West Point. 

General Greene was in chief command of the American 
army during Washington's absence. Its headquarters were 
at Tappaan (usually called Orangetown), a short distance 
from the west shore of the Hudson. Washington sent secret 
orders to Greene to receive the prisoner. 




"The '76 Stone House." 

On the morning of the 28th Andr6, with a strong escort, 
went down the river in a barge, landed at the King's Ferry, 
and journeyed to Tappaan on horseback. There he was 
lodged in a substantial stone dwelling belonging to Mr. 



THE TWO SPIES. 

ibtj\At^ kmuwrm, m oar dstj, as 
^ Tbe '76 StoBt HcmstT 

Oa timymrmj erf a day, Tanmadge and Aadrf, who 
about cqoal m age» had mncfa free oooTcrsatian. The pris> 
€Mua^% mftodjaii, like ererjr ooe else, was i— ^■■^tj^ by the 
yoang: foldier, and was de^y impressed with sjm^/^S^j for 
him. In reply to a questioo by TaUmadge, Andr£ said that, 
in the enterprise in which he was engaged, aU he sought 
milUarygf^y^ ilu afplamu ef his timgamd his cmuOrj, 
haps a brigadiershif. He asked Tallmadge in what hght he 
would be regarded by General Washington and a military 
tribunaL Tallmadge tried to erade an answer, but, being 
preised, he said : 

^ I had a moch4oYed classmate in Yale College by the 
name of Nathan Hale, who entered the army in 177$. Im- 
mediately after the battle of Long Island, General Washing- 
ton wanted information respecting the strength, position, 
and probable movements of the enemy. Captain Hale ten- 
dered his services, went over to Brooklyn, and was taken 
just as he was passing the outposts of the enemy on his 
return. Do you remember the uquel of the story t " " Yes," 
said Andr6, ^ he was hanged as a spy. But you surely do 
not consider his case and mine alike." " Yes, precisely 
similar ; and similar will be your fate," said Tallmadge. 

In general orders on the 26th Greene proclaimed, '* Trea- 
son of the blackest dye was discovered yesterday." He then 
gave a general account of the affair to the army and the peo- 
ple. It created wide-spread indignation and alarm, but the 
latter feeling was tempered by the concluding words of the 
order : '^ Arnold has made his escape to the enemy ; but Ma- 
jor Andr6, the adjutant -general of the British army, who 
came out as a spy to negotiate the business, is our prisoner." 



JOHN ANDR£. 99 

The news of the capture of Andr6y and this ominous gen^ 
eral order, produced intense excitement in both armies, and 
especially within the British lines. The evident sympathy 
of Washington and some of his officers for the prisoner 
when he was brought to Tappaan, created much feeling in 
the American army. Some of the officers declared that if 
they were not to be protected against such treacherous 
conduct, and this spy be pardoned, it was time to leave the 
army. In a manuscript account of the affair now before me, 
written by Elias Boudinot, LL. D., the eminent American 
commissary of prisoners, he observed : 

"Though these were their sentiments, they were only 
murmured from tent to tent. A few days convinced them 
that they had a commander.in^:hief who knew how to make 
his compassion for the unfortunate and his duty to those 
who depended upon him for protection to harmonize and 
influence his conduct. He treated Major Andr6 with the 
greatest tenderness, while he carried the sentence of the 
council into execution according to the laws of war. At 
New York, when the first account of Andr6's capture and 
condemnation arrived, the officers and citizens laughed at 
the idea that the * rebels ' would dare to execute the adju- 
tant-general of the British army ; but, if it should take 
place, vengeance in every form should be taken sevenfold. 
But, when it was known that Andr6 was no more. General 
Clinton shut himself up for three days, and every one at the 
Coffee-House and other public places hung their heads, and 
scarcely an observation relative to it escaped their lips." 

Washington had returned to his headquarters at Tap- 
paan,* and ordered a meeting of a board of officers on the 



* This building is yet standing, and is in nearly the same condition as it was in 
1780, at which time it belonged to John de Windt, a native of the Island of St 

8 



jOO THE TWO SPIES. 

39th, to make careful inquiries and report their opinion " tA 
the light in which he [the prisoner] ought to be considered, 
and what punishment ought to be inflicted." The board 
coasted of six major-generals and eight brigadier-generals. 
The court of inquiry was held in the Dutch church at 




WUHIMJTUII*B HKADgDARmt AT TAFnUR. 

Tappaan. General Greene pre^ded. When Andr£ was 
brought before his judges, he gave a detailed statement of 
the facts, and did not deny any of the specifications pre- 
sented by the judge-advocate, John Laurance. After careful 
deliberation the board reported that the prisoner " ought to 
be considered as a spy from the enemy, and that, agreeably to 
the law and usages of nations, it is their opinion he ought to 
suffer death." "Andri met the result," wrote Colonel Ham- 



By a peculiar anrangemeiit of brickt in tU front wall, ihe date of iti 
caaUmctioii — 1700— nuy be teen. In a targe room which WashingloD occupied 
M hi* office, and' where Andi^'i dealh-warrant wai ligned, (he tpacioua 6replace wai 
•unouDded by Dutch pldorial tUei, when I viiited aiid made the above sketch, in 
1849. 



JOHN ANDRA. ioi 

ilton, " with manly firmness. * I foresee my fate/ he said, 
' and though I pretend not to play the hero, or be indifferent 
to life, yet I am reconciled to whatever may happen, con- 
scious that misfortune, not guilt, has brought it upon me.' " 

Washington approved the finding of the court of in- 
quiry, and sentenced Andr6 to be hung as a spy on the first 
day of October, at five o'clock in the afternoon. He sent an 
account of the proceedings of the court and a letter from 
Andr6 to Sir Henry Clinton.* 

Meanwhile great exertions had been made to save 
Andr6 from his sad fate. General Clinton wrote to Wash- 
ington (September 26th) that Andr6 was not a legal spy, for 
a flag of truce had been sent to receive him, and passports 
were granted for his return. On receiving the papers from 
Washington, Sir Henry wrote a second letter to the Ameri- 
can chief commander, expressing the opinion that the board 
" had not been rightly informed of all the circumstances," 
and asked a postponement of the execution until a confer- 
ence might be held. The request was granted. The exe- 
cution was postponed one day. General Greene met Gen- 
eral Robertson and others at Dobb's Ferry, not as an officer, 
but as a private gentleman, but nothing occurred to war- 
rant a change in the opinion of the board of inquiry and 
the decision of Washington.f 

* This letter evinced great tenderness of feeling toward his commander. He 
declared that the events connected with his coming within the American lines were 
Contrary to his own intentions, and avowed the object of his letter to be to remove 
from Sir Henry's mind any suspicion that he (Andr^) imagined he was bound by 
his Excellency's orders to expose himself to what had happened. 

f General Robertson bore a letter from Arnold to Washington, which he re- 
served until all oral arguments had failed, when he read it to the gentlemen of the 
conference. Had there been a chance for coming to an understanding in regard 
to Andr^ before, this impudent letter from the traitor would have destroyed it. 
Arnold said : " If, after this Just and candid opinion of Major Andre's case, the 



I02 THE TWO SPIES. 

The Americans would gladly have saved the life of An- 
dr6 could Arnold have been g^ven up to them. Efforts to 
that end were made. Unofficial overtures were made to 
Clinton to exchange Arnold for Andr6, but honor forbade 
the act. All efforts in this direction failed. 

On the morning of October ist, the day on which Andr6 
expected to die, he wrote the following touching note to 
Washington : 

"Sir: Buoyed above the terror of death by the con- 
sciousness of a life devoted to honorable pursuits, and 
stained with no action that can give remorse, I trust that the 
request I make to your Excellency at this serious period, and 
which is to soften my last moments, will not be rejected. 

"Sympathy toward a soldier will surely induce your 
Excellency and a military tribunal to adapt the mode of my 
death to the feelings of a man of honor. 

"Let me hope, sir, that if aught in my character im- 
presses you with esteem toward me, if aught in my misfor- 
tune marks me as the victim of policy and not of resent- 
ment, I shall experience the operation of those feelings in 
your breast by being informed that I am not to die on a 
gibbet. 

" I have the honor to be your Excellency's most obedient 
and most humble servant, John AndrS." 

Colonel Hamilton urged Washington to comply with 
Andr6's request, but the commander could not grant it. 

board of general officers adhere to their former opinion, I shall suppose it dictated 
by passion and resentment ; and» if that gentleman should suffer the sererity of the 
sentence, I shall think myself bound by every tie of duty and honor to retaliate on 
such unhappy persons of your army as may fall in my power, that the respect doe 
to flags and the law of nations may be better understood and observed." 



JOHN ANDR£. 103 

Unwilling to wound the feelings of the prisoner by a re- 
fusal, he did not reply to the note. 

On the preceding evening Andr6 wrote letters to his 
mother, sisters, Miss Seward, and other friends, and made a 
pen-and-ink sketch of himself sitting at a table with a pen 
in his hand. On the following morning be made a rude 
sketch, with pen and ink, depicting the scene of bis passage 
from the Vulture to the shore, when be went to meet Ar- 
nold.* 

At noon on the 2d day of October, 1780, Major Andr6 
was executed upon an eminence near Tappaan village, in the 
presence of a vast concourse of people. He was dressed in 
full military costume and white top-boots. He was taken 
to the gallows — a cross-piece between two moderate-sized 
trees — by a procession of nearly all the field-officers, except- 
ing Washington and his staff, who remained at headquar- 
ters. General Greene led the cavalcade, which passed be- 
tween two files of soldiers, extending from the prison up to 
the fatal spot. The prisoner's step was firm, and be did not 
falter until he saw the gallows, and knew he was to be 
hanged as a felon and not shot as a soldier. His hesitation 
was only for a moment. 

A baggage-wagon, bearing a plain pine coffin, had been 
driven under the gallows. A grave had been dug near by. 
Into the wagon the prisoner stepped and, taking the rope 
from the hangman, adjusted it to his neck, and tied a white 
handkerchief over his eyes. Then Adjutant-General Scam- 

* The size of the original drawiiig from which the above sketch was made is 
twelve by seven inches. It will be observed that Andr^ has but one oarsman, in- 
stead of two, as was the case. The drawing was found on his table by his servant 
after the execution, and delivered by him at New York to Lieutenant-Colonel 
Crosby of Andre's regiment (the Twenty-second), and who, on his return to Eng- 
land, caused ^facsimile of it to be produced by the mezzotint process of engraving. 



I06 THE TWO SPIES. 

''From the few days of intimate intercourse I had with 
him/' wrote Tallmadge, '' I became so deeply attached to 
Major Andr6 that I could remember no instance when my 
affections were so fully absorbed by any man." The multi- 
tude who saw the execution were deeply moved with com- 
passion. Dr. Thacher says the tears of thousands fell on 
that occasion. The event made a deep impression upon 
both armies. The king speciaUy honored the memory of 
Andr6 by ordering a notable mural monument to be erected 
in Westminster Abbey, near the " Poets' Comer." A pict- 
ure of this monument is seen in the engraving.* The me- 
morial was executed in statuary marble, and is about seven 
and a half feet in height. It represents a sarcophagus with 
a device in low relief, and elevated upon a paneled pedestal, 
upon which are appropriate inscriptions.f On the sarcoph- 
agus is a representation of Washington and his officers in 
his tent at the moment when he received the report of the 
court of inquiry ; at the same time a messenger has arrived 



^ The original drawing from which the engraving was made was received from 
London in 1849 ^7 ^^^ author of this little work, together with a copy of a profile 
likeness of Andri^— simply the head and shoulders — said to have been drawn by 
himself. 

f Upon a panel is the following inscription : *' Sacred to the memory of Major 
John Andr^, who, raised to the rank of Adjutant-General of the British Army in 
America, and employed in an important and hazardous enterprise, fell a sacrifice 
to his zeal for his king and country, on the 2d of October, A. D. 1780^ eminently be- 
loved and esteemed by the army in which he served, and lamented even by his 
foes. His gracious sovereign. King George the Third, has caused this monu- 
ment to be erected." 

After the removal of Andre's remains to Westminster Abbey, as mentioned in 
the text, the following inscription was cut upon the base of the pedestal : 

'* The remains of Major John Andr< were, on the loth of August, 1821, re- 
moved from Tappaan by Jambs Buchanan, Esq., his Majesty's Consul at New 
York, under instructions from his Royal Highness the Dukb of York, and, with 
the permission of the Dean and Chapter, finally deposited in a grave contiguous to 
this monument on the 28th of November, 1821." 



JOHN ANDRt. 



107 



with the letter of Andri to Washington asking for a soldier's 
death. On the right is a guard of Continental soldiers, and 
a tree on which Andr6 was executed. Two men are pre- 




AKDRfa HoRVHurr in WamtmnR Abbit. 

paring the prisoner for execution, while at the foot of the 
tree sit Mercy and Innocence. On the top of the sarcoph- 
agus b the British Hon, and the figure of Britannia, who 



uA 



IS [ammfnag the fetfe of Andrf^ Tlie kxn^seKdai a 
upon die fiunilT of Amrfrt> and^ id wi^ ant the 
scua prodnccd bj fas death as a spj, die booor of 
hood was cam6erTrd upon his biuthei. 

As rdaticd in die insaripcioa on. tbe pedestal of Aackf^s 
momimmt, gi^ea in a fiaot4io(e, Mr. Hiifhaiiaa 
mams to be (fisiDCerred and sent to Eogfand. Two 
cedar-trees were gmwing near die gprave wiicreBi hr fcis 
remama^ A portioa of ooe of diese 



auuDS, and^at the saggesdoa of diecoosoL die duke 
a sux^-boz to be made of it £ar the Rer. Mr. 
Tappaan, who ga^e Mr. Buchanaa mock 
ondertakiiig. It was eiegant in desgiu was 
and was inscribed with the words : 

*" From his Rojal Highness the Duke of York, to 
his sense of the Rer. John Demorest's liberal attention 
the occasion of the rensoiral of the remains of the late Major 
Andr£, at Tappaan. on the loth of Angost^ iS^i."^ 

The aui filin g ssters of Andr6 sent a siItct cup to Mr. 
Denmrest, with a suitable inscripdon: also an ink^land to 
the British consnt 

Two gywrnmrnts ha^e b ee n ciec te d at difercnt times on 
the spot where Andri was executed, each with the soke pwr* 
pose of conmKmorating this Terr important erent in onr 
narinnal hxstorj, and to mark the exact hxalitr of its occnr- 
rence. One of these monuments was set up br James Lce>* 
a public-spirited New York merchant^ ncartj fortj rears 



of Mi: Lee 
staCBC «af W 



, 07 FL K. 



tf Uoioa Srpiarr, Xew V 



JOHN ANDRt. 109 

ago. It consisted of a small bowlder, upon the upper surface 
of. which were cut the words, "Andr6 was executed 
October 2, 1780." It was on the right side of a lane which 
ran from the highway from Tappaan village to old Tappaan, 
on the westerly side of a large peach-orchard, and about a 
mile from Washington's headquarters. I visited the spot 
in 1849, ^"^ made a drawing of this simple memorial-stone 
for my " Pictorial Field Book of the Revolution." In a foot- 
note of that work (vol. i, p. 772) I said, " A more elegant ' 
and durable monument should be erected on the spot" 




BOWLDBK-HOirUK EXT. 



A " more elegant and durable monument " was placed 
on the same spot a few years ago by another public-spirited 
New York merchant, Mr. Cyrus W. Field, and bears an in- 
scription written by the late Rev. Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, 
the Dean of Westminster. When that eminent divine and 
earnest friend of our country and admirer of our free insti< 
tutions was about to visit the United States in 1878, he made 



liO 



OE i 



to 



Mr. 




Mr.FxUsbd 



kxaSxT oc sack xa ia; 
be vocji erect a 




* I izt periecdr wT^rig ro 



cv 



CC^TK^ft OC 



^AXlLI. g U t 



zzazfL^iz 






ilk. cu e zctt 3or tbe 






u 



tux Mr. Fxki 

2L A C 



corrcszoBaaeaft oc a 



rV%» h 



not ZL 2izmztr :c Jtiirc j 
aiikiiis. A scrm re »rc 



to X Jl 

i SCT. 



T 



• UC 



iccn: Tie rifcT? wbtrr Aziir? ir: 



JOHN ANDR± III 

" ten thousand men ** were ready to pull it down and cast it 
into the river! These writers, many of whom concealed 
their real names, created considerable feeling in the public 
mind unfavorable to the project, and elicited a multitude of 
appeals to the patriotism and the prejudices of the American 
people, to oppose what ? — a phantom ! 

This intemperate and unwise correspondence continued 
several weeks. There were calm defenders of Mr. Field's 
motives in proposing to erect a monument, by persons who 
were well informed and had a clear perception of the intent 
and importance of such an act. The discussion was fruitful 
of some good. It had the salutary effect of calling public 
attention to the claims of Nathan Hale, the notable mar- 
tyr spy of the Revolution, to a memorial tribute — a public 
recognition of his virtues and his deeds — which had been so 
long deferred by our people. These claims were now ear- 
nestly advocated, not only by Mr. Field's critics, but by pa- 
triotic citizens. Considerable sums of money were offered 
for the laudable purpose of erecting a suitable monument in 
the city of New York to the memory of Hale. Several per- 
sons offered one hundred dollars each. 

Before the visit of Mr. Field and the dean, Mr. Henry 
Whittemore, a public-spirited citizen of Tappan, and Secre- 
tary of the Rockland County Historical Society, had found 
four living men who were present at the disinterment of 
Andr6*s remains in 1821. With these men he went to " An- 
dr6 Hill," where they identified the place of the spy's 
grave.* The requisite plot of ground was secured by Mr. 



* Mr. Whittemore had procured this identification fully six months before the 
visit of Mr. Field and his guests, with the view to have a memorial-stone placed 
upon the spot. He had consulted with the owner of the land about it. The latter 
believed it would enhance the value of his property, and favored the project. 



^ 



112 THE TWO SPIES. 

Field, who was compelled to buy many surrounding acres 
at an exorbitant price. Then, relying upon the good sense, 
the intelligence, and the patriotism of the American pec^le 
for a just appreciation of his motives, he proceeded to have 
a memorial-stone prepared. 

Soon after Dean Stanley returned home he wrote the 
promised inscription, and, in a letter to Mr. Whittemore 
(January, 1879), ^^ ^'^ - 

'* I have sent to Mr. Cyrus W. Field the inscription sug- 
gested. Perhaps you will kindly see that the facts are cor- 




/(iUt^r^ A 





fi^ty**^ (i^ts^ KAhXft/c^ 




Dban 9TAinxT*8 Autograph. 



rectly stated. It is desirable that the inscription should 
contain neither an attack nor a defense of Andr6, but only 



JOHN ANDRJL 113 

an expression of sympathy with him in his tragical fate, 
and with Washington for the difficult circumstances in which 
the judges were placed. 

''A wreath of autumn leaves from the Hudson I had 
placed on the monument in the abbey attracts universal 
attention. I have also the silver medals of Washington's 
headquarters, and the old Dutch church at Tappaan. 

'' I remain, yours gratefully, 

" A. P. Stanley." ♦ 

On the 2d of October, 1879, ^^^ ninety-ninth anniversary 
of the execution of Andr6, the monument prepared by Mr. 
Field's order, and placed over the spot where the spy was 
buried, was uncovered in the presence of representatives of 
the Historical Societies of New York, and Rockland County, 
of officers of the army of the United States, of the news- 
paper press and other gentlemen, and a few ladies. At noon, 
the hour of the day when Andr6 was executed, Mr. Field 
directed the workmen to uncover the memorial. There was 
no pomp or ceremony on the occasion. Not a speech was 
uttered, nor a token of applause given. 

From " Andr6 Hill " the company went with Mr. Whitte- 
more to his home in Washington's headquarters and the 
room in which Andr6's death-warrant was signed. While 
there the neglect of the memory of Nathan Hale, shown 
by the American people, was spoken of, when Mr. Field 
said: 

" Gentlemen, if I may be granted permission, I will erect 
a monument in memory of Nathan Hale on the spot where 



* Above may be seen a fac^simile of the last paragraph of Dean Stanley's 



114 ^^^ ^^^ SPIES. 

he suffered death in the city of New York, if the place may 
be found." 

Several years ago Mr. Field made a similar offer to the 
New York Historical Society.* More than thirty years 
before, he was a contributor to the fund raised to erect 
the modest monument in memory of Hale at South Co- 
ventry, delineated on page 26; and he was next to the 
largest contributor to the fund for procuring the bronze 
statue of a captor of Andr6 that surmounts the monu- 
ment at Tarrytown, which commemorates that important 
event. 

The memorial-stone erected at Tappaan is composed of 
a shaft of Quincy gray granite, standing upon a pedestal of 
the same material. The whole structure is about nine feet 
in height from the ground to the apex. It is perfectly 
chaste in design. There is no ornamentation. The granite 
is highly polished. It stands upon an elevation, about two 
miles from the Hudson River, and thirty yards from the 
boundary-line between New York and New Jersey, and 
overlooks a beautiful country, f On its west side it bears 
the following inscription, written by Dean Stanley : 



* The letter of Mr. Field conveying his generous offer to the New York His- 
torical Society (September, 1880) was referred to the Executive Committee. They 
warmly recommended its favorable consideration by the society. In their report, 
referring to the event commemorated by the memorial-stone at Tappaan, the com- 
mittee said it was an ** event which, perhaps, more signally than any other act 
of his life, illustrates the wisdom and firmness of Washington under circum- 
stances of peculiar trial, in which even his devoted followers were disposed 
to question his humanity, if not his justice, and almost to fall in with the sen-, 
timental calumny of the day, which has been so often reviewed and refuted as 
to become ridiculous. The memorial-stone of Andre's execution is a monument 
to Washington." 

f The engraving is from the original drawing of the architect Just below the 
inscription, at the bottom of the shaft, is cut " Arthur Penrmyn Stanley, D£AN 
OF Westminster." 



JOHN ANDR£. 115 



«• 



HERE DIED, OCTOBER 2, 1780^ 
MAJOR JOHN ANDRf» OF THE BRITISH ARMY, 

WHO, ENTERING THE AMERICAN LINES 
ON A SECRET MISSION TO BENEDICT ARNOLD, 
FOR THE SURRENDER OT WEST POINT, 
WAS TAKEN PRISONER, TRIED AND CONDEMNED AS A SPY. 

HIS DEATH, 

THOUGH ACCORDING TO THE STERN RULE OF WAR, 

MOVED EVEN HIS ENEMIES TO PITY ; 

AND BOTH ARMIES MOURNED THE FATE 

OF ONE SO YOUNG AND SO BRAVE. 

IN 182I HIS REMAINS WERE REMOVED TO WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

A HUNDRED YEARS AFTER THE EXECUTION 

THIS STONE WAS PLACED ABOVE THE SPOT WHERE HE LAY, 

BY A CITIZEN OF THE UNITED STATES, AGAINST WHICH HE FOUGHT, 

NOT TO PERPETUATE THE RECORD OF STRIFE, 

BUT IK TOKEN OF THOSE BETTER FEELINGS 

WHICH .HAVE SINCE UNITED TWO NATIONS, 

ONE IN kACE, IN LANGUAGE, AND IN RELIGIONi 

WITH THE HOPE THAT THIS FRIENDLY UNIOK 

WILL NEVER BE BROKEN." 

• 

On the north face : 

^' HE WAS MORE UNFORTUNATE THAN CRIMINAL." 
" AN ACCOMPLISHED MAN AND GALLANT OFFICER.'* 

GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

The first of these two lines was quoted from a letter of 
Washington to Count de Rochambeau, October lo, 1780. 
(See Sparks*s " Life and Writings of Washington/' vol. vii, 
p. 241.) The second line is from the sentence of a letter 
written by Washington to Colonel John Laurens on the 
13th of October. (See Sparks, vol. vii, p. 256.) 

On the north face of the stone are the words : 



<« 



SUNT LACRYMiE RERUM ET MENTEM MORTALIA TANGUNT. 



»» 



The east front was left blank for another inscription. 
Such, in a few sentences, is the story of the erection of 
the memorial-stone at Tappaan by Mr. Field. The idea was 





Il6 . THE TWO SPIES. 

the product of spontaneous thought, elicited by a special 
occasion. The sole object to be attained is the laudable 
and patriotic one of perpetuating, by a visible record, the 
memory of one of the most important events in our history. 



HmORUL AT TtPPAAH. 



at the place of its occurrence. That event has two promi- 
nent aspects, namely ; the courage, patriotism, faith in the 
American people, and the unswerving fidelity in the dis- 
charge of a momentous trust, of our beloved Washington 
and his officers, in the face of most extraordinary tempta^ 
tions to do otherwise ; and the execution as a spy of the 
adjutant-general of the British army, while that army, 



JOHN ANDRt. 117 

twenty thousand strong, was lying only a few miles distant, . 
and supported by powerful ships of war. 

These were the events to be commemorated by this 
memorial-stone, and not the name or character of any indi- 
vidual. It was no more a monument ''in honor of Major 
Andr6, the British spy/' than was the monument of white 
marble, twenty-five feet in height, which was erected by pa- 
triotic men, in 1853, to mark the spot at Tarry town where 
the spy was captured, or the naming of the rivulet near 
which it stands " Andr6 Brook." Surely every intelligent 
and right-minded American, clearly comprehending the 
truth of the whole matter, will award to Mr. Field the meed 
of praise for his generous and patriotic deed. 

An attempt was made on the night of November 3, 1885, 
to destroy the beautiful memorial-stone at Tappaan by an 
explosion of dynamite. The pedestal was shattered into 
pieces, but the shaft was only shaken from its perpendicular 
position. This crime was the logical result of persistent mis- 
representation of the character and intent of the memorial 
in some of the newspapers. Twice before, attempts had 
been made to destroy it ; the first time by a defacement of 
the inscription by a misguided person who, on a dark night, 
battered the letters, many of them almost beyond recog- 
nition. The destroyer* left a small American flag hanging 
over the monument from a stick, supported by a pile of 
stones, upon the apex ; also the following lines, the product, 
evidently, of one moved by a spirit of conscious untruthful- 
ness, or of profound ignorance of the character of the object 
assailed : 

* It was ascertained that the perpetrator of the crime was a *' crank " — a printer, 
in the city of New York-^who, after eluding the officers of the law for some time, 
finally died. 



Il8 THE TWO SPIES. 

** Too long hath stood the traitor's shaft, 

A monument to shame. 
Built up to praise the traitor's craft. 

To sanctify ill fame. 
Are freemen bound to still forbear. 

And meekly still implore. 
When conquered foes their altars rear 

Within our very door . 

" This vulgar and insulting stone 

Would honor for all time. 
Not sneaking Andre's death alone. 

But black Ben Arnold's crime. 
And they, who thus can glorify 

The traitor and his deeds. 
Themselves high treason would employ 

If 'twould fulfill their needs. 

" Americans ! resolve, proclaim 
That on our own dear land. 
Never, while the people reign, 
Shall treason's statue stand I 
And he who dares erect it next. 

On fair Columbia's breast. 
With furtive or with false pretext, 
Shall dangle from its crest I " 

The second attempt to destroy the memorial-stone was 
made on a dark night. Nitro-glycerine or dynamite was 
used for the purpose. The explosion was heard for miles 
around. The perpetrator of the deed was not discovered. 
The stones of the pedestal were shattered, but the shaft re- 
mained in an upright position. 

Mr. Field had the damages to the memorial repaired. 
He designed to have the acres around it fashioned into a 
handsome little park. He also proposed to erect within the 
grounds a fire-proof building for the use of the Rockland 
County Historical and Forestry Society as a depository of 
historical and other relics of that county, the building to be 



fOHN ANDR£. 119 

presented to the society, and the park to the citizens of Tap- 
paan, as a free gift. The outrage of November 3, 1885, ^^y 
frustrate this generous plan. 

Two days after that outrage, a New York morning jour- 
nal of large circulation and wide influence declared that 
*' the malignity with which the people about Tappaan regard 
Mr. Field's monument to Andr6 appears to be settled and 
permanent." To this grave indictment of the inhabitants of 
a portion of Rockland County as participants in the crime, 
that people responded by resolutions unanimously adopted 
at an indignation meeting held at the Reformed Church at 
Tappaan on the evening of the 9th. They denounced the 
charge as utterly untrue, expressed their belief that no per- 
son in the vicinity had " the remotest connection " with the 
crime ; that it was desirable to have the place of Andr6*s 
execution indicated by a memorial-stone with a suitable in- 
scription, and commended Mr. Field for his zeal in perpetu- 
ating events of the Revolution in such a manner.* 

In the foregoing narrative I have endeavored to present 
a brief, plain, and truthful story of the memorial at Tappaan, 
about which so much has been said and written. I have 
fashioned it from trustworthy materials. I have simply re- 
corded the facts, and leave the readers to form their own 
conclusions. 

The monument at Tarrytown has been alluded to. It 
was erected in 1853, on the spot where tradition says Major 
Andr6 was captured, to commemorate that event. It bore 
upon a tablet the following inscription : 

" On this spot, the 23d of September, 1780, the spy, Major 

* A petition addressed to the Governor of the State, asking him to assist in an 
eflbrt to discover the perpetrator of the crime, was signed by a large number of the 
most respectable citizens of Rockland County. 



THE TWO SPIES. 




Homninrr and Statvi at Tarkytowh. 



JOHN ANDRA. 121 

John Andr6, Adjutant-General of the British Army, was 
captured by John Paulding, David Williams, and Isaac Van 
Wart, all natives of this county. History has told the rest 

" The people of Westchester County have erected this 
monument as well to commemorate a great event as to tes- 
tify their high estimation of that integrity and patriotism 
which, rejecting every temptation, rescued the United 
States from most imminent peril by baffling the acts of a 
spy and the plots of a traitor. Dedicated October 7, 1853." 

The citizens of Westchester County, desirous of giving 
more significance to this monument, caused its conical shaft 
to be removed, and in its place erected a bronze statue of a 
captor — a young volunteer soldier. This statue is the work 
of the accomplished sculptor, Mr. O'Donovan, of New 
York. 

The monument and statue were unveiled in the presence 
of thousands of spectators on the centennial of the event 
commemorated — the 23d of September, 1880. On that occa- 
sion Samuel J. Tilden presided. A prayer was offered by 
the venerable son of one of the captors, Isaac Van Wart, 
and an oration was pronounced by Chauncey M.. Depew. 
General James Husted was the marshal of the day. 

On one face of the monument is the old inscription, and 
upon another, next to the highway, is a fine bronze bos- 
relief representing the scene of the capture. This also is 
from the atelier of Mr. O'Donovan. An excellent picture 
of this work of art and of the statue may be found in the 
" Memorial Souvenir of the Monument Association," pre- 
pared by Dr. Sargent C. Husted, secretary of the asso- 
ciation. 



MONODY ON MAJOR ANDRfe. 



THE AUTHOR OF THE MONODY. 



Anna Seward, the abiding friend and ever-faitliful cor- 
respondent of Major Andr6 until his death, was a daughter 
of Thomas Seward, the canon-resident of Lichfield Cathe- 
dral. She was born at Eyam, in Derbyshire, England, in 
1747. Her education, superior to that of most girls of her 
time, was superintended by her father, who was a graduate 
of Oxford, a man of great moral worth, and noted for his 
scholarship. 

Miss Seward evinced a taste and a genius for poetic com- 
position at a very early age, and before she reached the 
period of young womanhood she attracted the attention of 
local literary characters. She became a great favorite of 
Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was a native of Lichfield and 
was a frequent guest at the house of her father. On one 
occasion, when she was about fourteen years of age, she 
wrote a clever poetical address of welcome to Dr. Johnson, 
which greatly pleased the recipient. Miss Seward is often 
incidentally mentioned in BosweU's ''Life of Johnson." 
Writing of a visit at Mr. Seward's in 1775, when Anna was 
twenty-eight years of age, Boswell, Johnson's shadow, says, 
" And now, for the first time, I had the pleasure of seeing 
his celebrated daughter, Miss Anna Seward, to whom I have 
since been indebted for many civilities." 

Miss Seward's first acquaintance with young Andr6, her 



126 THE TWO SPIES. 

interest in his love-affair with Honora Sneyd, and her pleas- 
ant epistolary and personal intercourse with him until his 
departure for America, have been referred to in the early 
portions of the brief notice of that young soldier's career 
contained in this volume. During his service in America 
she was his constant correspondent ; and she first informed 
him of the death of Honora a short time before his own 
tragic exit from earth. 

The circumstances attending the death of her friend in- 
spired Miss Seward to write her most notable and most 
admired poem, " Monody on Major Andr6.** She was then 
thirty-three years old. It was printed for the author at 
Lichfield early in 1781. Being consonant in its utterances 
with the feelings of the British public at that time, it had a 
large sale, and produced a powerful sensation. She received 
congratulatory letters from literary people and others in 
various parts of the kingdom. No man was more delighted 
with it than was Dr. Johnson, '* the colossus of English litera- 
ture." 

Johnson was a fierce Tory, and hated the Americans 
with a spirit of savage ferocity. On one occasion, while at 
Lichfield, he said, " I am willing to love all mankind, ex- 
cepting an American." He called them " rascals," " robbers 
and pirates," and angrily exclaimed, " I'd burn and destroy 
them ! " Boswell says Miss Seward, who was present at this 
outburst of passion, and whose feelings were favorable to 
the American cause, boldly rebuked Johnson, saying, " Sir, 
this is an instance that we are most violent against those we 
have most injured." This delicate but keen reproach irri- 
tated Johnson still more, and, says Boswell, " he roared out 
another tremendous volley, which one might fancy could be 
heard across the Atlantic." But Johnson and Anna Seward 



THE AUTHOR OF THE MONODY. 127 

remained good friends until a short time before the death of 
the former. They corresponded with each other, and fre- 
quently met in social circles. 

I have said Dr. Johnson was delighted by Miss Seward's 
" Monody." He exhibited that delight in the most public 
manner by writing and publishing in the "Gentleman's 
Magazine," over his own signature, the following poetic epis- 
tle to the author : 

"To Miss Seward, on her Monody on Major Andr^: 

•* Above the frigid etiquette of form. 
With the same animated feelings warm, 
I come, fair maid, enamored of thy lays. 
With tribute verse, to swell the note of praise. 
Nor let the gentle Julia's ♦ hand disclaim 
The bold intrusion of an honest strain. 
Nor is it mine alone — 'tis the full voice 
Of such as honor with no vulgar choice,t 
Of such as feel each glowing line along 
Once the bright subject of an humble song.| 
The treasures of the female heart make known 
By copying the soft movcmcnls of her own. 
Wom.in should walk arrayed in her own rol)e, 
The hope, the boast, the blessing of the globe. 
" Shrewsbury. S. JOHNSON." 

Miss Seward's " Monody " was dedicated to Sir Henry 
Clinton. To it were appended three letters written to her 
by young Andr6 immediately after his betrothal to and 
personal separation from Honora Sneyd. These 1 have ap- 
pended to the ** Monody." The printed copy of that poem, 
before me, bears the autograph signature of Anna Seward 
at the end. 

* Andr^ in his correspondence with Miss Seward on the topic of Honora ad- 
dressed her as " Julia." 

f A reading society at Shrewsbury is here alluded to. 

X Alluding to an " Essay on Woman," written by Johnson. 



128 THE TWO SPIES. 

It was not long after Johnson's poetical epistle to the 
author of the " Monody " appeared before an interruption of 
the goodly feeling between him and his fair friend occurred. 
In 1782 Johnson's " Lives of the British Poets" appeared, 
in which he severely criticised the poetry of her cherished 
friend Thomas Hayley. Ever ready and prompt to defend 
heroically those she had learned to esteem, she instantly 
took fire at the attack, and she wrote letters to her friends 
which were far from complimentary to Johnson. To Hay- 
ley she wrote : 

" You have seen Dr. Johnson's * Lives of the Poets.' 
They have excited your generous indignation. A heart like 
Hayley's would shrink astonished to perceive a mind so 
enriched with the power of genius capable of such cool 
malignity. Yet the * Gentleman's Magazine ' praised these 
unworthy efforts to blight the laurels of undoubted fame. 
Oh, that the venom may fall where it ought ! " 

Animadversions by Miss Seward more severe than this 
found their way, without her consent, into the public prints, 
and deeply offended Dr. Johnson. The breach thus made 
was never healed. Miss Seward refused to retract a word, 
but persisted in her utterances. Sometimes, even after the 
death of Dr. Johnson, in 1784, they were spiced with at- 
tacks upon his personal character. These attacks drew 
from Boswell a defense of his dead friend, whom he almost 
adored, and in 1793 he and Miss Seward carried on a spirited 
controversy in the " Gentleman's Magazine." 

Miss Seward's writings in verse and prose were quite 
voluminous. The latter, consisting of her literary corre- 
spondence from 1784 to 1807, was published in six volumes 
in the latter year. Her poetical works, with extracts from her 
literary correspondence, edited by Sir Walter Scott, were 



THE AUTHOR OF THE MONODY. 



129 



published in three Tolumes in 18 10. Next to her '' Mono- 
dy/* in point of excellence and popularity, was her ''Elegy 
on Captain James Cook/' the famous drcumnavigator of 
the globe. Of this performance Sir Walter Scott said, ** It 
conveyed a high impression of the original power of the 
author/' 

The literary fame of Anna Seward has not been endur- 
ing, and she, who was a conspicuous figure in the world of 
letters in England during the last quarter of the eighteenth 
century, is now almost forgotten. Her known social rela- 
tions to Major Andr^, and her " Monody/' have perpetuated 
her memory in the minds of Americans. It is said that, 
when she was fully informed of all the circumstances con- 
nected with the death of Andr6, she was satisfied that she 
had been unjust toward Washington in her animadversions 
upon his character in her poem, and expressed a regret that 
she had so misjudged him. 

Miss Seward, in a letter to her friend Miss Poqsonby, re- 
lated that several years after the peace a friend of Washing- 
ton's, an American officer, introduced himself to her (Miss 
Seward), saying he was commissioned by General Wash- 
ington to call upon her and assure her that no circumstance 
of his life had been so mortifying as to be censured in the 
'' Monody '' on Andr6 as the pitiless author of his ignomin- 
ious fate ; that he had labored to save him ;' and that he re- 
quested his friend to leave with Miss Seward a package of 
papers which he had sent, consisting of copies of the records 
of the court-martial, etc. "The American officer referred 
to," says Sargent, " is supposed to have been Colonel Hum- 
phreys." 

Various opinions have been expressed concerning the 
writings of Miss Seward. The literary circle of Lichfield, 



I30 THE TWO SPIES. 

of which she was the central figure, appears to have been a 
mutual-admiration society. The productions of each mem- 
ber appear to have been eulogized by every other member. 
Her friend, the celebrated Dr. Erasmus Darwin, declared 
that she was " the inventress of epic elegy " ; the eccentric 
philosopher Day called her a '* prodigy of genius " ; while 
the wits of London gently ridiculed the pretensions of the 
literary Lichfieldians. Horace Walpole wrote : " Misses 
Seward and Williams, and a half a dozen more of these har- 
monious virgins, have no imagination, no novelty. Their 
thoughts and phrases are like their gowns — old remnants 
cut and turned." The Rev. Alexander Dyce wrote : " She 
was endowed with considerable genius, and with an ample 
portion of that fine enthusiasm which sometimes may be 
taken for it ; but her taste was far from good, and her numer- 
ous productions (a few excepted) are disfigured by florid 
ornament and elaborate magnificence." 

After Miss Seward's death, in 1809, there was published 
a small volume with the title of "The Beauties of Anna 
Seward." She died a maiden. The portrait preceding this 
brief memoir is a carefully drawn copy with pen and ink 
of an engraving by A. Garden, from the original picture 
painted in 1763, when she was sixteen years of age, by Tilly 
Kettle, an English portrait-painter of note, who was then 
only about twenty-three years of age. 



MONODAY 



ON 



MAJOR ANDRE. 



By Miss SEWARD, 

(AUTHOR or TMB BLBOT ON CAPTAIN COOK.) 



TO WHICH ARK ADDED 
LETTERS ADDRESSED TO HER 

By major ANDR1&, 

IN THE YEAR 1769* 



LICHFIELD : 

PUNTED AND SOLD BY J. JACKSON, FOR THE AUTHOR ; 

SOLD ALSO BY ROBINSON, PATER-NOSTBR ROW ; CADELL AND RVANS, IN THE 

STRAND, LONDON ; PRINCE, OXFORD ; MERRILL, CAMBRIDGE ; 

AND PRATT AND CLINCH, BATH. 

M.DCC.LXXXI. 

[PrUf, Two-ShilUngS'and'SiX'PenciJ] 
10 



TO 
HIS EXCELLENCY, 

SIR HENRY CLINTON, 

KNIGHT OF THE BATH. 

Sir : Wit A the zeal of a religious Enthusiast to his mur- 
dered Saint, the Author of this mournful Eulogium consecrates 
it to the Memory of Major Andriy who fell a Martyr in the 
Cause of his King and Country , with the firm Intrepidity of 
a Roman, and the amiable Resignation of a Christian Hero, 

Distant Awe and Reverence prevent her offering these Effu- 
sions of Gratitude to the Beneficent and Royal Patron of tite 
Andri Family. May Mr, Andr/'s illustrious General, the 
Guardian of his injured Honour, his conspicuous and personal 
Friend, deign to accept them from One who was once happy in 
the Friendship of the GLORIOUS SUFFERER. 
Your Excellency s 

Most obedient humble Servant, 

Anna Seward. 



MONODAY 

ON 

MAJOR ANDRfi. 



Loud howls the storm 1 the vex'd Atlantic roars ! 

Thy Genius, Britain, wanders on its shores 1 

Hears cries of horror, wafted from afar, 

And groans of Anguish, mid the shrieks of War I 

Hears the deep curses of the Great and Brave, 

Sigh in the wind, and murmur on the wave ! 

0*er his damp brow the sable crape he binds. 

And throws his victor-garland * to the winds ; 

Bids haggard Winter, in her drear sojourn, 

Tear the dim foliage from l^er drizzling urn ; 

With sickly yew unfragrant cypress twine, 

And hang the dusky wreath round Honour's shrine. 

Bids steel-clad valour chace his dove-like Bride, 

Enfeebling Mercy, from, his awful side ; 

Where long she sat, and check'd the ardent rein. 

As whirrd his chariot o'er th' embattled plain ; 

Gilded with sunny smile her April tear, 

Rais'd her white arm and stay'd th' uplifted spear ; 

Then, in her place, bid Vengeance mount the car, 

And glut with gore th* insatiate Dogs of War ! — 

* Victor-garland — alluding to the conquest by Lord Comwallis. 



136 THE TWO SPIES. 

With one pale hand the bloody scroll * he rears. 
And bids his nations blot it with their tears ; 
And one, extended o'er th' Atlantic wave, 
Points to his ANDRE'S ignominious grave ! 

And shall the Muse, that marks the solemn scene, 
" As busy Fancy lifts the veil between," 
Refuse to mingle in the awful train, 
Nor breathe with glowing zeal the votive strain ? 
From public fame shall admiration fire 
The boldest numbers of her raptur'd lyre 
To hymn a Stranger ? — ^and with ardent lay 
Lead the wild mourner round her Cook's moral, 
While Andr£ fades upon his dreary bier. 
And Julia's f only tribute is her tear ? 
Dear, lovely Youth ! whose gentle virtues stole 
Thro' Friendship's soft'ning medium on her soul 1 
Ah no ! — with every strong resistless plea. 
Rise the recorded days she pass'd with thee. 
While each dim shadow of o'erwhelming years, 
With Eagle-glance reverted, Mem'ry clears. 

Belov'd companion of the fairest hours 
That rose for her in joy's resplendent bow'rs. 
How gaily shone on thy bright Mom of Youth 
The Star of Pleasure, and the Sun of Truth ! 
Full from their Source descended on thy mind 
Each gen'rous virtue, and each taste refin'd. 



* Bloody scroll. The court-martial decree, signed at Tappan, for Major An- 
dre's execution. 

f JuHa — the name by which Mr. Andr^ addressed the author in his correspond- 
ence with her. 



MONODY ON MAJOR ANDR£. ' 137 

Young Genius led thee to his varied fane, 
Bade thee ask *all his gifts, nor ask in vain ; 
Hence novel thoughts, in evVy lustre drest 
Of pointed wit, that diamond of the breast ; 
Hence glow'd thy fancy with poetic ray. 
Hence music warbled in thy sprightly lay ; 
And hence thy pencil, with his colours warm, 
Caught ey Vy grace, and copied ev'ry charm. 
Whose transient glories beam on Beauty's cheek, 
And bid the glowing Ivory breathe and speak. 
Blest pencil ! by kind Fate ordain'd to save 
Honora's semblance from fher early grave, 
Oh ! while on % Julia's arm it sweetly smiles. 
And each lorn thought, each long regret beguiles, 
Fondly she weeps the hand, which form'd the spell, 
Now shroudless mould'ring in its earthy cell I 

But sure the Youth, whose ill-starr'd passion strove 
With all the pangs of inauspicious Love, 
Full oft' deplor'd the Fatal Art, that stole 
The jocund freedom of its Master's soul ! 



* All kis gifts. — Mr. Andr^ has conspicuous talents for Poetry, Music, and 
Painting. The news-papers mentioned a satiric poem of his upon Americans, 
which was supposed to have stimulated this barbarity towards him [" The Cow- 
Chase "]. — Of his wit and vivacity, the letters subjoined to this work afibrd ample 
proof. — They were addressed to the author by Mr. Andr^ when he was a youth of 
eighteen. 

t Early grave, — Miss Honora S. [Honora Sneyd], to whom Mr. Andre's attach- 
ment was of such singular constancy, died in a consumption a few months before 
he suffered death at Tappan. She had married another Gentleman [Richard Lovell 
Edgeworth] four years after her engagement with Mr. Andr< had been dissolved 
by parental authority. 

XJuiia*s arm, — Mr. Andr^ drew two miniature pictures of Miss Honora S. 
on his first acquaintance with her at Buxton, in the year 1769, one for himself, the 
other for the author of this poem. 



138 THE TWO SPIES. 

While with nice hand he mark'd the living g^raoe. 
And matchless sweetness of Honora's face, 
Th' enamour'd Youth the faithful traces blest. 
That barb'd the dart of Beauty in his breast ; 
Around his neck th' enchanting Portrait hung. 
While a warm vow burst ardent from his tongue. 
That from his bosom no succeeding day, 
No chance should bear that Talisman away. 
Twas thus *Apelles bask'd in Beauty's blaze. 
And felt the mischief of the steadfast gaze ; 
Trac*d with disorder'd hand Campaspe's charms^ 
And as their beams the kindling Canvas warms, 
Triumphant Love, with still superior art, 
Engraves their wonders on the Painter's heart 

Dear lost Companion ! ever-constant Youth ! 
That Fate had smil'd propitious on thy Truth ! 
Nor bound th' ensang^in'd laurel on that brow 
Where Love ordain'd his brightest wreath to glow ! 
Then Peace had led thee to her softest bow'rs. 
And Hymen strew'd thy path with all his flow'rs ; 
Drawn to thy roof, by Friendship's silver cord. 
Each social Joy had brighten'd at thy board ; 
Science, and soft Affection's blen(red rays 
Had shone unclouded on thy lengthen'd days ; 
From hour to hour thy taste, with conscious pride. 
Had mark'd new talents in thy lovely Bride ; 
Till thou hadst own'd the magic of her face 
Thy fair Hongra's least engaging grace. 



* ' Twos thus ApslUs, — Prior b very elegant upon this circumstance in an Ode 
to hit Friend, Mr. Howard the Painter. 



MONODY ON MAJOR ANDRJL 139 

Dear lost Honora I o'er thy early bier 
Sorrowing the Muse still sheds her sacred tear I 
The blushing Rose-bud in its vernal bed, 
By Zephyrs fann'd, by glist'ring Dew-drops fed. 
In June's gay morn that scents the ambient air. 
Was not more sweet, more innocent or fair. 
Oh ! when such Pairs their kindred Spirit find, 
When Sense and Virtue deck each spotless Mind, 
Hard is the doom that shall the union break, 
And Fate's dark billow rises o'er the wreck. 

Now Prudence, in her cold and thrifty care, 
' Frown'd on the Maid, and bade the Youth despair, 
For Pow'r Parental sternly saw, and strove 
To tear the lily-bands of plighted love ; 
Nor strove in vain ; — but. while the Fair-One's sighs 
Disperse, like April storms in sunny skies. 
The firmer Lover, with unswerving truth. 
To his first passion consecrates his Youth ; 
Tho' four long years a night of absence prove, 
Yet Hope's soft Star shone trembling on his Love ; 
Till * hov'ring Rumour chas'd the pleasing dream 
And veil'd with Raven-wing the silver beam. 
" Honora lost I my happy Rival's Bride 1 
«' Swell ye full Sails 1 and roll thou mighty Tide 1 
" O'er the dark Waves forsaken Andr£ bear 
" Amid the voUying Thunders of the War ! 
" To win bright Glory from my Country's foes, 
" E'en in this ice of Love, my bosom glows. 

• If ov* ring Rumour, — ^Thc tidings of Honora's Marriage. Upon that event 
Mr. Andr^ quitted his Profession as a Merchant and join*d our Army in 
America. 



I40 ' THE TWO SPIES. 

'' Voluptuous London ! in whose gorgeous bow'rs 

'' The frolic Pleasures lead the dancing Hours, 

" From Orient-vales Sabean-odours bring, 

" Nor ask her roses of the tardy Spring ; 

" Where Paintings bum the Grecian Meed to claim 

" From the high Temple of immortal Fame, 

" Bears to the radiant Goal, with ardent pace, 

" Her Kauffman's Beauty, and her Reynolds* Grace ; 

" Where Music floats the glittering roofs among, 

" And with meand*ring cadence swells the Song, 

•* While sun-clad Poesy the Bard inspires, 

" And foils the Grecian Harps, the Latian Lyres. 

" Ye soft'ning Luxuries ! ye polish *d Arts ! 
" Bend your enfeebling rays on tranquil Flearts ! 
" I quit the Song, the Pencil, and the Lyre, 
" White robes of Peace, and Pleasure's soft Attire, 
To seize the Sword, to mount the rapid Car, 
In all the proud habiliments of War. — 
" HoNORA lost ! I woo a sterner Bride, 
" The arm*d Bellona calls me to her side ; 
'' Harsh is the music of our marriage strain ! 
" It breathes in thunder from the Western plain ! 
" Wide o'er the wat'ry world its echoes roll, 
" And rouse each latent ardour of my soul. 
" And tho' unlike the soft melodious lay, 
" That gaily wak'd Honora's nuptial day, 
" Its deeper tones shall whisper, e'er they cease, 
" More genuine transport, and more lasting peace I 

" Resolv'd I go ! — nor from that fatal bourne 
" To these gay scenes shall Andr6*s step return ! 



« 



MONODY ON MA/OR ANDRJL 141 

** Set is the Star of Love, that ought to guide 

*' His refluent Bark across the mighty Tide ! — 

'^ But while my Country's Foes, with impious hand, 

*' Hurl o'er the blasted plains the livid brand 

" Of dire Sedition I— Oh ! let Heav'n ordain, 

** While Andr£ lives, he may not live in vain I 

'' Yet without one kind farewell, could I roam 

'' Far from my weeping Friends, my peaceful home, 

'' The best affections of my heart must cease, 

" And gratitude be lost, with hope, and peace 1 

" My lovely Sisters ! who were wont to twine 

" Your Souls' soft feeling with each wish of mine, 

" Shall, when this breast beats high at Glory's call, 

" From your mild eyes the show'rs of Sorrow fall ? — 

"The light of Excellence, that round you glows, 

" Decks with reflected beam your Brother's brows. 

" Oh ! may his Fame, in some distinguish'd day, 

" Pour on that Excellence the brightest ray ! 

'' Dim clouds of woe 1 ye veil each sprightly grace 

" That us'd to sparkle in Maria's face. — 

•* My * tuneful Anna to her lute complains, 

" But Grief's fond throbs arrest the parting strains. — 

" Fair as the silver blossom on the thorn, 

" Soft as the spirit of the vernal mom, 

'•' Louisa, chace those trembling fears, that prove 

" Th' ungovern'd terrors of a Sister's love. 

*' They bend thy sweet head, like yon lucid flow'r, 

" That shrinks ^nd fades beneath the summer's show'r — 

" Oh ! smile, my Sisters, on this destin'd day, 



* Tuneful Anna, — Miss Anna Andr^ has a poetical talent. 



142 



THE TWO SPIES. 



" And with the radiant omen gild my way ! 
" And thou, my Brother, gentle as the gale, 
" Whose breath perfumes anew the blossom*d vale, 
" Yet quick of Spirit, as th* electric beam, 
'' When from the clouds its darting lightnings stream. 
Soothe with incessant care our Mother's woes, 
And hush her anxious sighs to soft repose. — 
" And be ye sure, when distant far I stray 
'' To share the dangers of the arduous day, 
" Your tender faithful amity shall rest 
" The * last dear record of my grateful breast. 



« 



« 



Oh ! graceful Priestess at the fane of Truth, 
Friend of my Soul ! and Guardian of my Youth ! 
** Skill'd to convert the duty to the choice, 
" My gentle Mother 1 — in whose melting voice 
" The virtuous precept, that perpetual flow'd, 
" With music warbled, and with beauty glow'd, 
" Thy Tears ! — ah Heav'n ! — not drops of molten lead, 
" Pour'd on thy hapless Son's devoted head, 
" With keener smart had each sensation torn ! — 
" They wake the nerve where agonies are born I 
" But oh ! restrain me not ! — thy tender strife, 
" What wou'd it save ? — alas ! — thy Andre's life I 
" Oh ! what a weary pilgrimage 'twill prove 

" Strew'd with the thorns of disappointed Love ! 

" Ne'er can he break the charm, whose fond controul, 

" By habit rooted, lords it o'er his soul, 

* Last dear record. — " I have a Mother, and three Sisters, to whom the value 
" of my commission wou'd be an object, as the loss of Grenada has much affected 
" their income. It is needless to be more explicit on this subject, I know your £x- 
" cellency's goodness." — See Major Andr6's last letter to General Clinton, publish'd 
in the Gazette. 



MONODY ON MAJOR ANDRL 143 

*' If here he languish in inglorious ease, 

'' Where Science palls, and Pleasures cease to please. 

" Tis Glory only, with her potent ray, 

' Caii chace the clouds that darken all his way. 

" Then dry those pearly drops that wildly flow, 

" Nor snatch the laurel from my youthful brow I — 

" The Rebel Standard blazes to the noon 1 

'' And Glory's path is bright before thy Son I 

** Then join thy voice 1 and thou with Heav'n ordain 

*' While Andr£ lives, he may not live in vain ! '* 



He says ! — ^and sighing seeks the busy strand, 
Where anchor'd Navies wait the wish'd command. 
To the full gale the nearer billows roar. 
And proudly lash the circumscribing shore ; 
While furious on the craggy coast they rave, 
All calm and lovely rolls the distant wave ; 
For onward, as th* unbounded waters spread. 
Deep sink the rocks in their capacious bed. 
And all their pointed terror's utmost force 
But gently interrupts the billow's course. 

So on his present hour rude Passion preys I 
So smooth the prospect of his future days I 
Unconscious of the Storm, that grimly sleeps, 
To wreck its fury on th* unsheltered Deeps I 
Now yielding Waves divide before the prow, 
The white sails bend, the streaming pennants glow ; 
And swiftly waft him to the Western plain, 
Where fierce Bellona rages o'er the slain. 

Firm in their strength, opposing Legions stand. 
Prepared to drench with blood the thirsty Land. 



144 ^^^ ^^^ SPIES. 

Now Carnage hurls her flaming bolts afar. 
And Desolation groans amid the War. 
As bleed the Valiant, and the Mighty jrield. 
Death stalks, the only Victor, o*er the field. 

Foremost in all the horrors of the day, 
Impetuous Andr£ * leads the glorious way ; 
Till, rashly bold, by numbers forc'd to yield, 
They drag him captive from the long-fought field. — 
Around the Hero crowd th' exulting Bands, 
And seize the spoils of war with bloody hands. 
Snatch the dark plumage from his awful crest, 
And tear the golden crescent from his breast ; 
The sword, the tube, that wings the death from far. 
And all the fatal implements of War ! 

Silent, unmov'd the gallant Youth survey'd 

The lavish spoils triumphant Ruffians made. 

The idle ornament, the useless spear 

He little recks, but oh ! there is a fear 

Pants with quick throb, while yearning sorrows dart 

Thro' his chill frame, and tremble at his heart : 

" What tho' Honora's voice no more shall charm ! 

" No more her beamy smile my bosom warm ! 

" Yet from these eyes shall force for ever tear 

" The sacred Image of that Form so dear ? — 

" Shade of my Love ! f — tho' mute and cold thy charms, 

" Ne'er hast thou blest my happy Rival's arms ! 

* Impet%totu Andri. — It is in this passage only that fiction has been employ'd 
thro' the narrative of the poem. Mr. Andr^ was a prisoner in America, soon after 
his arrival there, but the Author is unacquainted with the circumstances of the 
action in which he was taken. 

\Shade of my Lave. — The miniature of Honora. A letter from Major Andr^ 



MONODY ON MAJOR ANDRM. 145 



44 

44 

41 



To my sad heart each Dawn has seen thee prest ! 
Each Night has laid thee pillow'd on my breast I 
Force shall not tear thee from thy faithful shrine ; 
*' Shade of my Love ! thou shalt be ever mine ! 

^' Tis fix'd 1 — ^these lips shall resolute enclose 
^' The precious Soother of my ceaseless woes. 
^' And shou'd relentless Violence invade 
*' This last retreat, by frantic Fondness made, 
^' One way remains I — Fate whispers to my Soul 
*^ Intrepid * Portia and her burning coal ! 
^' So shall the throbbing Inmate of my breast 
*' From Love's sole gift meet everlasting rest I " 



While these sad thoughts in swift succession fire 
The smothered embers of each fond desire, 
Quick to his mouth his eager hands removes 
The beauteous semblance of the Form he loves. 
That darling treasure safe, resigned he wears 
The sordid robe, the scanty viand shares ; 
With cheerful fortitude content to wait 
* The barter*d ransom of a kinder Fate. 

Now many a Moon in her pale course had shed 
The pensive beam on Andr£*s captive head. 

to one of hit Friendi, written t few yean tgo, contained the following lentenoe : 
'* I have been taken prisoner by the Americans and stript of erery thing except the 
picture of Honora, which I concealed in my month. Preserving that, I yet think 
myself fortunate/* 
♦ Intrepid Portia. — ** Brutus\ Impatient of my absence, 

" And grieved that young Octavius with Mark Antony 
" Had made themselves so strong, she grew distracted, 
" And, her Attendants absent, swallow'd fire. 
" Casnus,^ And dy'd so ? 
*• Brutus,'\ Even so I " 
See Shakespear's Play of Julius Csesar, Act IV., Scene IV. 



41 



146 THE TWO SPIES. 

At length the Sun rose jocund, to adorn 

With all his splendour the enfranchis'd Mom. 

Again the Hero joins the ardent Train 

That pours its thousands on the tented plain ; 

And shines distinguish 'd in the long Array, 

Bright as the silver Star that leads the Day 1 

His modest temperance, his wakeful heed, 

His silent diligence, his ardent speed. 

Each Warrior-duty to the Veteran taught, 

Shaming the vain Experience Time had brought 

Dependence scarcely feels his gentle sway. 

He shares each want, and smiles each grief away ; 

And to the virtues of a noble Heart, 

Unites the talents of inventive Art 

Thus from his swift and faithful pencil flow 

The Lines, the Camp, the Fortress of the Foe ; 

Serene to counteract each deep design. 

Points the dark Ambush, and the springing Mine ; 

Till, as a breathing Incense, Andre's name 

Pervades the Host, and swells the loud acclaim. 

The Chief no virtue views with cold regard, 
Skiird to discern, and generous to reward ; - 
Each tow'ring hope his honour'd smiles impart. 
As near his Person, and more near his Heart 
The graceful Youth he draws, — and round his brow 
Bids Rank and Pow'r their mingled brilliance throw. 

Oh ! hast thou seen a blooming Mom of May 
In crystal beauty shed the modest ray, 
And with its balmy dews* refreshing show'r 
Swell the young grain, and ope the purple flow'r, 




MONODY ON MAJOR ANDRE. 147 

In brightening lustre reach its radiant Noon, 
Rob*d in the gayest mantle of the Sun ? 
Then 'mid the splendours of its azure skies, 
Oh ! hast thou seen the cruel Storm arise, 
* In sable horror shroud each dazzling charm, 
And dash their glories back with icy arm ? 

Thus lowr*d the deathful cloud amid the blaze 

Of Andre's rising hopes, — and quench'd their rays I 

Ah, fatal Embassy ! — ^thy hazards dire 

His kindling Soul with ev'ry ardour fire ; 

Great Clinton gives it to the courage prov'd. 

And the known wisdom of the Friend he lov'd. 

As fair Euryalus, to meet his Fate, 
With Nysus rushes from the Dardan gate, 
Relentless Fate I whose fury scorns to spare 
The snowy breast, red lip, and shining hair. 
So polish 'd Andr£ launches on the waves, 
Where * Hudson's tide its dreary confine laves. 
With firm intrepid foot the Youth explores 
Each dangerous pathway of the hostile shores ; 
But on no Veteran-Chief his step attends, 
As silent round the gloomy Wood he wends ; 
Alone he meets the brave repentant Foe, 
Sustains his late resolve, receives his vow. 
With ardent skill directs the doubtful course, 
Seals the firm bond, and ratifies its force. 
'Tis thus, America, thy Generals fly, 
And wave new banners in their native sky ! 

* Hudson's tide, — Major Andr^ came up the Hudson River to meet General 
'Arnold. On his return by Land he fell into the hands of the Enemy. 
11 



I4« THE TWO SPIES. 

Sick of the misdueb artful Gallia poors^ 
In {tvcaSXj semblance on thj niTag^d dioreSb 
Unnatural compact ! — shall a Race of SiaTCs 
Sustain the ponderous standard Freedom waves? 
No ! while their fdgn'd Protection ^»neads the toils^ 
The Vultures hover o*er the destin*d ^xiib ! 
How fade Provincial-glories, while ye run 
To court far deeper bondage than ye shun ! 
Is this the generous active rising Flame, 
That boasted Liberty's immortal name, 
Blaz'd for its rights infring'd, its trophies torn. 
And taught the Wife the dire mistake to mourn. 
When haughty Britain, in a luckless hour. 
With rage inebriate, and the lust of pow'r, 
To fruitless conquest, and to countless graves. 
Led her gay Legions o'er the Western waves ? 
The Friend of Discord, cow'ring at the prow. 
Sat darkly smiling at th' impending woe ! 

Long did my Soul the wretched strife survey. 
And wept the horrors of the deathful day ; 
Thro' rolling Years saw undecisive War 
Drag bleeding Wisdom at his iron Car ; 
Exhaust my Country's treasure, pour her gore 
In fruitless conflict on the distant shore ; 
Saw the firm Congress all her might oppose, 
And while I mourn'd her fate, rever'd her Foes. 

But when, repentant of her prouder aim. 
She gently waives the long-disputed claim ; 
Extends the Charter with your Rights restored, 
And hides in olive-wreaths the biood-stain'd sword, 



MONODY ON MAJOR ANDRJL 149 

Then to reject her peaceful wreaths, and throw 
Your Countr)' s Freedom to our mutual Foe ! — 
Infatuate Land ! — from that detested day 
Distracted Councils, and the thirst of Sway, 
Rapacious Avarice, Superstition vile. 
And all the Frenchman dictates in his guile 
Disgrace your Congress ! — Justice drops her scale ! 
And radiant Liberty averts her sail ! 
They fly indignant the polluted plain, 
Where Truth is scorh'd, and ft^ercy pleads in vain. 
That she does plead in vain, thy witness bear. 
Accursed Hour ! — thou darkest of the Year ! 
That with Misfortune's deadliest venom fraught, 
To Tappan*s Wall the gallant Andr]6 brought. 

Oh Washington ! I thought thee great and good, 
Nor knew thy Nero-thirst of guiltless blood ! 
Severe to use the pow'r that Fortune gave, 
Thou cool determined Mi}rderer of the Brave ! 
Lost to each fairer Virtue, that inspires 
The genuine fervor of the patriot fires ! 
And You, the base Abettors of the doom. 
That sunk his blooming honors in the tomb, 
Th' opprobrious tomb your hardened hearts decreed, 
While all he ask*d was as the Brave to Bleed ! 
Nor other boon the glorious Youth implor'd 
Save the cold Mercy of the Warrior-Sword ! 
O dark, and pitiless ! your impious hate 
O'er-whelm'd the Hero in the Ruffian's fate ! 
Stopt with the * Felon-cord the rosy breath ! 
And venom'd with disgrace the darts of Death ! 

• Felon-cord, — " As I suffer in the defence of my Country, I must consider this 
" hour as the most glorious of my life. — Remember that I die as becomes a British 



I50 THE TWO SPIES. 

Remorseless Washington ! the day shall come 

Of deep repentance for this barb'rous doom ! 

When injur'd Andre's memory shall inspire 

A kindling Army with resistless fire ; 

Each falchion sharpen that the Britons wield. 

And lead their fiercest Lion to the field ! 

Then, when each hope of thine shall set in night. 

When dubious dread, and unavailing flight 

Impel your Host, thy guilt-upbraided Soul 

Shall wish untouch 'd the sacred Life you stole ! 

And when thy Heart appall'd and vanquish'd Pride 

Shall vainly ask the mercy they deny'd. 

With horror shalt thou meet the fate they gave, 

Nor Pity gild the darkness of thy grave ! 

For Infamy, with livid hand shall shed 

Eternal mildew on the ruthless head ! 

. Less cruel far than thou, on Ilium's plain 
Achilles, raging for Patroclus slain ! 
When hapless Priam bends the aged knee. 
To deprecate the Victor's dire decree, 
The nobler Greek, in melting pity spares 
The lifeless Hector to his Father's prayers. 
Fierce as he was ; — 'tis Cowards only know 
Persisting vengeance o'er ?l fallen Foe. 

But no intreaty wakes the soft remorse. 
Oh, murder'd Andr6 ! for thy sacred Corse ; 
Vain were an army's, vain its Leader's sighs ! — 
Damp in the Earth on Hudson's shore it lies ! 

" Officer, while the manner of my death roust reflect disgrace on your Commander.'* 
See Major Andre's last words, inserted in the General Evening Post, for Tuesday^ 
November the 14, 1780. 



MONODY ON MAJOR ANDRk. 151 

Unshrouded welters in the wintry storm, 
And gluts the riot of the * Tappan Worm ! 
But oh ! its dust, like Abel's blood, shall rise, 
And call for justice from the angry skies ! 

What tho' the Tyrants, with malignant pride, 
To thy pale Corse each decent rite deny'd ! 
Thy graceful limbs in no kind covert laid, 
Nor with the Christian Requiem sooth'd thy shade I 
Yet on thy grass-green Bier soft April-show'rs 
Shall earliest wake the sweet spontaneous Flow'rs, 
Bid the blue Hare-bell and the Snow-drop there 
Hang their cold cup, and drop the pearly tear ! 
And oft, at pensive Eve's ambiguous gloom, 
Imperial Honour, bending o'er thy tomb. 
With solemn strains shall lull thy deep repose, 
And with his deathless Laurels shade thy brows ! 

Lamented Youth ! while with inverted spear 
The British Legions pour th' indignant tear I 
Round the dropt arm the f funeral scarf entwine, 
And in their heart's deep core thy worth enshrine, 
While my weak Muse, in fond attempt and vain, 
But feebly pours a perishable strain. 
Oh ! ye distinguish'd Few ! whose glowing lays 
Bright Phoebus kindles with his purest rays. 
Snatch from its radiant source the living fire, 
And light with % Vestal flame your Andre's Hallow'd 
Pyre. 



♦ Tappan, — The place where Major Andr^ was executed. 

f Funeral scarf, — Our whole Army in America went into mourning for Major 
Andr^, a distinguish'd tribute to his merit. 

% Vestal flame. — The Vestal fire was kept perpetually burning, and originally 
kindled from the rays of the Sun. 



LETTERS 

ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR OF THE FOREGOING POEM, BY MAJOR 
ANDR6, when he was a youth of EIGHTEEN. 



LETTER I. 

Clapton, October j^ if 69, 

From their agreeable excursion to Shrewsbury, my dear- 
est friends are by this time returned to their thrice-beloved 
Lichfield. Once again have they beheld those fortunate 
spires^ the constant witnesses of all their pains and pleasures. 
I can well conceive the emotions of joy which their first ap- 
pearance, from the neighboring hills, excites after absence ; 
they seem to welcome you home, and invite you to reiterate 
those hours of happiness, of which they are a species of 
monument. I shall have an eternal love and reverence for 
them. Never shall I forget the joy that danced in Honora's 
eyes, when she first showed them to me from Need wood 
Forest on our return with you from Buxton to Lichfield. I 
remember she called them the Ladies of tfie Valley — their 
lightness and elegance deserve the title. Oh, how I loved 
them {rom that instant ! My enthusiasm concerning them 
is carried farther even than yours and Honora's, for every 
object that has a pyramidal form recalls them to my recol- 
lection, with a sensation that brings the tear of pleasure into 
my eyes. 



LETTERS. 153 

How happy must you have been at Shrewsbury ! only 
that you tell me, alas ! that dear Honora was not so well as 
you wished during your stay there. I always hope the best 
My impatient spirit rejects every obtruding idea which I 
have not fortitude to support. Dr« Darwin's skill and 
your tender care will remove that sad pain in her side, 
which makes writing troublesome and injurious to her; 
which robs her poor cher Jean^ of those precious pages 
with which, he flatters himself, she would otherwise have 
indulged him. So your happiness at Shrewsbury scorned 
to be indebted to public amusements. Five virgins, united 
in the soft bonds of friendship ! how I should have liked 
to have made the sixth ! But you surprise me by such an 
absolute exclusion of the beaux. I certainly thought that 
when five wise virgins were watching at midnight, it must 
have been in expectation of the bridegroom's coming* We 
are at this instant five virgins, writing round the same table 
— my three sisters, Mr. Ewer, and myself. I beg no reflec- 
tions injurious to the honor of ^oor cher Jean, My mother is 
gone to pay a visit, and has left us in possession of the old 
coach ; but as for nags, we can boast only of two long-tails, 
and my sisters say they are sorry cattle, being no other 
than my friend Ewer and myself, who, to say the truth, have 
enormous pig-tails. 

My dear Boissier is come to town ; he has brought a lit- 
tle of the soldier with him, but he is the same honest, warm, 
intelligent friend I always found him. He sacrifices the town 
diversions, since I will not partake of them. 

We are jealous of your correspondents, who are so nu- 
merous. Yet, write to the Andr6s often, my dear Julia, for 

* A name of kindness, by which Mr. Andr^ was often called by his mother and 
sisters, and generally adopted by the persons mentioned in these letters. 



154 THE TWO SPIES. 

who are they that will value your letters quite so much as 
we value them ? 

The least scrap of a letter will be received with the great- 
est joy. Write, therefore, though it were only to give us 
the comfort of having a piece of paper which has recently 
passed through your hands ; Honora will put in a little 
postscript, were it only to tell me that she is my very sincere 
friend, who will neither give me love nor comfort — ^very 
short, indeed, Honora, was thy last postscript ! But I am 
too presumptuous ; I will not scratch out, but I unssiy. 
From the little there was I received more joy than I de- 
serve. This cher Jean is an impertinent fellow, but he will 
grow discreet in time. You must consider him as a poor 
novice oi eighteen, who, for all the sins he may commit, is 
sufficiently punished in the single evil of being one hundred 
and twenty miles from Lichfield. 

My mother and sisters will go to Putney in a few days, 
to stay some time. We none of us like Clapton. / need not 
care, for I am all day long in town, but it is avoiding Scylla 
to fall into Charybdis. You paint to me the pleasant vale of 
Stow in the richest autumnal coloring. In return, I must tell 
you that my zephyrs are wafted through cracks in the wain- 
scot ; for murmuring streams I have dirty kennels ; for bleat- 
ing flocks, grunting pigs ; and squalling cats for birds that in- 
cessantly warble. I have said something of this sort in my 
letter to Miss Spearman, and am twinged with the idea of 
these epistles being confronted, and that I shall recall to 
your memory the fat knight*s love-letters to Mrs. Ford and 
Mrs. Page. 

Julia, perhaps thou fanciest I am merry — alas ! But I do 
not wish to make you as doleful as myself ; and besides, 
when I would express the tender feelings of my soul, I have 



LETTERS, 155 

no language which does them justice ; if I had, I should re- 
gret that you could not have it fresher, and ♦that whatever 
one communicates by letter must go such a roundabout way 
before it reaches one's correspondent — from the writer's 
heart, through his head, arm, hand, pen, ink, paper, over 
many a weary hill and dale, to the eye, head, and heart of 
the reader. I have often regretted our not possessing a 
sort of faculty which should enable our sensations, remarks, 
etc., to arise from their source in a sort of exaltations, and 
fall upon our paper in words and phrases properly adapted 
to express them, without passing through an imagination 
whose operations so often fail to second those of the heart. 
Then what a metamorphose should we see in people's style ! 
How eloquent those who are truly attached ! how stupid 
they who falsely profess affection ! Perhaps the former had 
never been able to express half their regard ; while the lat- 
ter, by their flowers of rhetoric, had made us believe a thou- 
sand times more than they ever felt — but this is whimsical 
moralizing. 

My sisters Penserosas were dispersed on their arrival 
in town, by the joy of seeing Louisa and their dear little 
brother Billy again, our kind and excellent Uncle Giradot, 
and Uncle Lewis Andr6. I was glad to see them, but they 
complained, not without reason, of the gloom upon my 
countenance. Billy wept for joy that we were returned, 
while poor cher Jean was ready to weep for sorrow. Louisa 
is grown still handsomer since we left her. Our sisters, 
Mary and Anne, knowing your partiality to beauty, are 
afraid that, when they introduce her to you, she will put 
their noses out of joint. Billy is not old enough for me 
to be afraid of in the rival-way, else I should keep him 
aloof, for his heart is formed of those affectionate ma^ 



156 THE TWO SPIES. 

tcrials so dear to the ingcnuoiis taste of Julia and her 
Hoooca. 

I qrmpathize in jour resentment against the canonical 
dons who stnmiMfj the heads of those good green* people, 
beneath whose friendl j shade so manj of yoor h^ipiest 
houis have glided awa j — but the j def j them ; let them 
stnmiMf J as much as thej please, time will repair the mis> 
chief ; their Terdant anns will again extend and inyite joa 
to their shdter. 

The evenii^ grow long. I hope your cont e isation 
round the fire will sometimes fall on the Andr£s ; it will 
be a great comfort that they are remembered. We <diink 
our glasses to your healths at every meaL ** Here's to our 
Lichfieldian friends,** says Nanny. ^Oh-h!** says Mary. 
"^ With all my souU say I.** '^AlUms I ** cries my mother— 
and the draught seems nectar. The libation made, we begin 
our undoying theme, and so beguile the gloomy evening. 

Mr. and Mrs. Seward will accept my most affectionate 
respects. My male friend at Lichfield will j<Mn in your coo* 
versation on the Andrts. Among the numerous good quali- 
ties he is possessed of, he certainly has gratitude, and then 
he can not forget those who so sincerdy love and esteem 
him. I, in particular, shall always recall with pleasure the 
happy hours I have passed in his company. My friendship 
for him, and for your family, has diffused itself, like the 
precious ointment from Aaron's beard, on everything which 
surrounds you ; therefore I b^ you would give my amities 
to the whde town. Persuade Honora to forgive the length 
and ardor <rf the enclosed, and believe me truly. 

Your affectionate and faithful friend, 

J. Axdr£. 



LETTERS. 157 

LETTER II. 

London, October ig, lydg. 

From the midst of books, papers, bills, and other imple- 
ments of gain, let me lift up my drowsy head awhile to con- 
verse with dear Julia. And first, as I know she has a fervent 
wish to see me a quill-driver, I must tell her that I begin, as 
people are wont to do, to look upon my future profession 
with great partiality. I no longer see it in so disadvan- 
tageous a light. Instead of figuring a merchant as a middle- 
aged man, with a bob-wig, a rough beard, in snuff-colored 
clothes, grasping a guinea in his red hand, I conceive a come- 
ly young man, with a tolerable pig-tail, wielding a pen with 
all the noble fierceness of the Duke of Marlborough brandish- 
ing a truncheon upon a sign-post, surrounded with types 
and emblems, and canopied with cornucopias that disem- 
bogue their stores upon his head ; Mercuries reclined upon 
bales of goods ; Genii playing with pens, ink, and paper ; 
while in perspective, his gorgeous vessels, *^ launched oh the 
bosom of the silver Thames," are wafting to distant lands 
the produce of this commercial nation. Thus all the mer- 
cantile glories crowd on my fancy, emblazoned in the most 
refulgent coloring of an ardent imagination. Borne on her 
soaring pinions, I wing my flight to the time when Heaven 
shall have crowned my labors with success and opulence, I 
see sumptuous palaces rising to receive me. I see orphans, 
and widows, and painters, and fiddlers, and poets, and build- 
ers, protected and encouraged ; and when the fabric is pretty 
nearly finished by my shattered pericranium, I cast my eyes 
around and find John Andr6 by a small coal-fire, in a gloomy 
compting-house in Warnford Court, nothing so little as what 
he has been making himself, and in all probability never to 



158 THE TWO SPIES. 

be much more than he is at present But oh, my dear Ho- 
nora ! it is for thy sake only I wish for wealth. You say she 
was somewhat better at the time you wrote last I must 
flatter myself that she will soon be without any remains 
of this threatening disease. 

It is seven o'clock. You and Honora, with two or three 
more select friends, are now probably encircling your dress- 
ing-room fireplace. What would I not give to enlarge that 
circle ! The idea of a clean hearth, and a snug circle round 
it, formed by a few sincere friends, transports me. You seem 
combined together against the inclemency of the weather, 
the hurry, bustle, ceremony, censoriousness, and envy of the 
world. The purity, the warmth, the kindly influence of fire, 
to all for whom it is kindled, is a good emblem of the friend- 
ship of such amiable minds as Julia's and her Honora's. 
Since 1 can not be there in reality, pray imagine me with 
you ; admit me to your canvtrsasiones ; think how I wish for 
the blessing of joining them ! — and be persuaded that I take 
part in all your pleasures, in the dear hope that e'er it be 
very long your blazing hearth will bum again for me. Pray 
keep me a place ; let the poker, tong^, or shovel, represent 
me ; but you have Dutch tiles, which are infinitely better ; 
so let Moses, or Aaron, or Balaam's ass, be my represent- 
ative. 

But time calls me to Clapton. I quit you abruptly till 
to-morrow, when, if I do not tear the nonsense I have been 
writing, I may perhaps increase its quantity. Signora Cyn- 
thia is in clouded majesty. Silvered with her beams, I am 
about to jog to Clapton upon my own stumps ; musing as I 
homeward plod my way — ah ! need I name the subject of 
my contemplations ? 




1S9 



I had a sweet waUc home hut night, and found the Qap- 
tooians, with their fair guest, a Miss Mourgue, very vdL 
My sisters send their amiti/i, and will write in a few days. 

This morning I returned to town. It has been the finest 
day imaginable. A solemn mildness was diffused throughout 
the blue horizon ; its light was clear and distinct rather than 
dazzling. The serene beams of the autumnal sun, gilded 
bills, variegated woods, glittering spires, ruminating herds, 
bounding flocks, all combined to enchant the eyes, expand 
the heart, and 

" Ctuce an sorrow but despair." 

In the midst of such a scene no lesser grief can prevent our 
sympathy with Nature. A calmness, a benevolent dispo- 
sition seizes us with sweet, insinuating power. The very 
brute creation seems sensible of these beauties ; there is a 
species of mild cheerfulness in the face of a lamb which I 
have but indifferently expressed in a comer of my paper, 
and a demure, contented look in an ox, which, in the fear of 
expressing still worse, I leave unattempted. 

Business calls me away. I must dispatch my letter. Yet 
what does it contain ? — no matter. You like anything better 
than news. Indeed, you never told me so ; but I have an 
intuitive knowledge upon the subject, from the sympathy 
which I have constantly perceived in the taste of Julia and 
cherjean. What is it to you or me — 

If here in the city we have nothing but riot, 
1( the Spita]-field weavers can't be kept quiet. 
If the weather ia fine, or the streets should be dirty. 
Or if Mr. Dick Wilson died aged of thirty ? 

But if I was to hearken to the versifying grumbling f feel 
within me, I should fill my paper and not have room left to 



l6o THE TWO SPIES. 

entreat that you would plead my cause to Honora more elo- 
quently than the enclosed letter has the power of doing. 
Apropos of verses, you desire me to recollect my random 
description of the engaging appearance of the charming 
Mrs. — —. Here it is, at your service : 

Then rustling and bustUi^ the lady comes down. 
With a flaming red face, and a broad yellow gown. 
And a hobbling out-of-breath gait, and a frown. 

This little French cousin of ours, Delarise, was my sister 
Mary's playfellow at Paris. His sprightliness eng^es my 
sisters extremely. Doubtless they talk much of him to you 
in their letters. How sorry I am to bid you adieu ! Oh, let 
me not be forgot by the friends most dear to yoi| at Lich- 
field I Lichfield! Ah! of what magic letters is that little 
word composed ! How gleeful it looks when it is written ! 
Let nobody talk to me of its original meaning, *'' The field 
of blood ! " Oh, no such thing ! It is the field of joy ! 
'' The beautiful city that lifts her fair head in the valley and 
says, I am^ and there is none beside me ! " Who says she is 
vain ? Julia will not say so, nor yet Honora, and least of all 
their devoted J. Andre. 



LETTER III. 

Clapton, November i, lydg. 

My ears still ring with the sounds of " O Jack ! O Jack ! 
How do the dear Lichfieldians ? What do they say ? What 

* Field of blood. — Here is a small mistake. Lichfield is not the field of blood, 
but ** the field of dead bodies," alluding to the battle fought between the Romans 
and the British Christians in the Diocletian persecution, when the latter were mas- 
sacred. Three slain kings, with their burying-place, now Barrowcop Hill, and the 
cathedral in miniature, form the city arms. Lich is still a word in use. The 
churchyard gates, through which funerals pass, are often called Lich-gates, vul- 
garly Light-gates. 



I 



LBTTEKS. l6l 

are thej about 7 What did yen do while you were with 
them ? " . Have patience, said 1, good people I and be^an my 
itory, which they devoured with as much joyful avidity as 
Adam did Gabriel's tidings of heaven. My mother and sis- 
ters are all very well, and delighted with their little French- 
man, who is a very agreeable lad. Surely you applaud the 
fortitude with which I left you I Did I not come off with 
flying cf^ors ? It was a great effort, for, alas I this recreant 
heart did not second the smiling courage of the eeunttnanee ; 
nor is it yet as it ought to be, from the hopes that it may 
reasonably entertain of seeing you all again e'er the winter's 
dreary hours are past. Julia, my dear Julia, g^ld them with 
tidings of our belovtid Honora ! Oh, that you may be able 
to tell me that she regains her health, and her charming 
vivacity ! Your sympathizing heart partakes all the joys 
and pains of your friends.. Never can I forget its kind 
qffices, which were of such moment to my [leace 1 Mine is 
formed for friendship, and I am blessed in being able to place 
so weli the purest passion of an ingenuous mind I How am 
I honored in Mr. and Mrs. Seward's attachment to me t 
Channing'were the anticipations which b^uiled the- long 
tracts of hilt, and dale, and plain that divide London from 
Lichfield I With what delight my eager eyes drank their 
first view tfi the dear spires I What rapture did I not feel 
on entering your gates ! in flying up the hall steps 1 in rush- 
ing into the dining-room ! in meeting the gladdened eyes of 
dear Julia and her enchanting friend ! That instant con. 
vinced me of the truth of Rousseau's observation, that " there 
are moments worth ages." Shall not those moments return ? 
Ah, Julia ! the cold hand of absence is heavy upon the heart 
of your poor cher Jean. He is forced to hammer into it per- 
petually every consoling argument that the magic wand of 



\6z THE TWO SPIES. 

hope can ooo ju re up, riz^ that ercrj moment of industrious 
abtcnce 2draoce% his joumej, jou know whither. I may 
sometimes make excursions to Lichfield, and badL in the 
light of m J Honora's ejes ! Sustain me, Hope ! — nothing on 
mj part shall be wanting which maj induce thee to fmlJUl 
th J blossomii^ promises. 

The bappjwocud circle — ^Julia, Hooora, Miss S n. Miss 

B n, her brother, Mr. S e, Mr. R n, etc, etc. — 

are now, perhaps, enliTening jour dressing-room, the dear 
Mkt regiam^ as Honora calls it, with the sensible observation, 
the tasteful criticism, or the el^;ant song ; dreadii^ the iron- 
tof^^ue of the nine^'ckxrk bell, which diq>erscs the beii^^s 
whom friendship and kindred virtues had drawn together. 
M J imagination attaches itself to all^ even the inamimmU ob- 
jects which surround Honora and her Julia ; that have be> 
heU their graces and virtues expand and ripen — my dear 
Honora's — from their infant bud. 

The sleepy Claptonian train are gone to bed, somewhat 
wearied with their excursion to Enfield, whither they have 
this day carried their favorite little Frenchman, so gremi a 
favorite; the parting was quite tragicaL I walked hither 
from town, as usual, to-night ; no hour of the twenty-four is 
so precious to me as that devoted to this solitary walk. O 
my friend ! I am far from possessing the patient frame of 
mind which I so continually invoke ! Why is Lichfield an 
hundred and twenty miles from me ? There is no moderaiitm 
in the distance ! Fifty or sixty miles had been a g^reat deal 
too much, but then there would have been less opposition 
from authority to my frequent visits. 1 conjure you, supply 
the want of these blessings by frequent letters. I must not, 
will not ask them of Honora, since the use of the pen is for- 
bid to her declining health ; 1 will content myself, as usual 




LETTERS. 163 

with a postscript from her in your epistle. My sisters are 
charmed with the packet which arrived yesterday, and 
which they will answer soon. 

As yet I have said nothing of our journey. We met' an 
entertaining Irish gentleman at Dunchurch, and, being fel- 
low-sufferers in cold and hunger, joined interests, ordered 
four horses, and stuffed three in a chaise. It is not to you 
— I need not apologize for talking in rapture of an higgler 
whom we met on our road. His cart had passed us, and 
was at a considerable distance, when, looking back, he per- 
ceived that our chaise had stopped, and that the driver 
seemed mending something. He ran up to him, and with 
a face full of honest anxiety, pity, good-nature, and every 
sweet affection under heaven, asked him if we wanted any- 
thing ; that he had plenty of nails, ropes, etc., in his cart. 
That wretch of a postillion made no other reply than " We 
want nothing, master." From the same impulse the good 
Irishman, Mr. Till, and myself, thrust our heads instantly 
out of the chaise, and tried to recompense to the honest 
creature by forcing upon him a little pecuniary tribute. 
My benevolence will be the warmer, while I live, for the 
treasured remembrance of this higgler's countenance. 

I know you interest yourself in my destiny. I have now 
completely subdued my aversion to the profession of a mer- 
chant, and hope in time to acquire an inclination for it ; yet 
God forbid I should ever love what I am to make the object 
of my attention ! — that vile trash, which I care not for, but 
only as it may be the future means of procuring the blessing 
of my soul. Thus all my mercantile calculations go to the 
tune of dear Honora. When an impertinent consciousness 
whispers in my ear that I am not of the right stuff for a 
merchant, I draw my Honora's picture from my bosom, and 



10 



164 THE TWO SPIES. 



the sight of that dear talisman so in^irits mj industry that 
no toil appears expressive. 

The poetic talk you set me in is a sad method. My head 
and heart are too full of other matters to be engrossed by a 
draggle4ailed wench of the Heliconian puddle. I am going 
to try my interest in Parliament. How you stare ! — it is to 
procure a frank. Be so good as to give the enclosed to Ho- 
nora ; it will speak to her. And do you say everything that 
is kind for me to every other distinguished friend of the 
dressing-room circle ; encourage them in their obliging de- 
sire of scribbling in your letters, but don't let them take 
Honora's comer of the sheet 

Adieu ! May you all possess that cheerfulness denied to 

your cher Jean. I fear it hurts my mother to see my musing 

moods» but I can neither help nor overcome them. The 

near hopes of another excursion to Lichfield could alone 

disperse every gloomy vapor of my imagination. Again, 

and yet again« adieu ! 

J. Andr& 



INDEX. 



Adams, Alice, Hale*s affianced, 21 (ftcti). 

Alexander, William, Lord Stilling, 71 
{note), 

American army on Manhattan Island, 
condition of, 11 ; on Harlem Heights 
— perils menacing the, 12. 

American cause, gloomy prospects for 
the, 79. 

Anderson, the fictitious name of Major 
Andr^, 65. 

Andr^, John, birth, parentage, educa- 
tion, and family of, 37 ; at Lichfield 
with Anna Seward, 38 ; personal ap- 
pearance of — betrothed to Honora 
Sneyd — paints a miniature portrait of 
her — correspondence of, with Anna 
Seward^ 40, 41 ; enters the British 
army — alleged presages of his death, 
43| 43 ; go^ to America — his obser- 
vations there, 43, 44 ; made a prisoner, 
exchanged, and promoted by General 
Howe, 44, 45 ; social position of, in 
Philadelphia, 45, 46 ; writes *' Yankee 
Doodle's Expedition to Rhode Isl- 
and " — aide-de-camp to General Clin- 
ton, 61 ; genius of, displayed — goes 
with Clinton up the Hudson River, 
62 ; letters of, to Mrs. Benedict Ar- 
npld, 63 ; secret correspondence of, 
with General Arnold, 65 ; a spy at 
Charleston — made adjutant-general of 



the British forces in America, 66; 
writes " The Cow-Chase," 68 ; at a 
dinner-party given by Colonel Will- 
iams—sadness of, 80 ; sings a cam- 
paign song — important mission of, 81 ; 
meets Arnold near Haventraw — goes 
to Smith's house — bargain with Ar- 
nold, 83, 84 ; attempts to return to 
New York through the American 
lines— disguise of, 84 ; conceals papers 
received from Arnold in his boots — 
journey of, toward New York, 85 ; 
arrest of, 86 ; suspected of being a 
spy, 87, 88 ; tries to bribe his captors 
— taken to an American post, 88 <; 
confession of, 91 ; letter of, to Wash- 
ington, 91-93 ; sent to West Point, 
97 ; sent to Tappaan in charge of Ma- 
jor Tallmadge, 97, 98 ; sympathy for, 

99, 105, 106 ; effect of the news of 
capture of, 99 ; trial and sentence of, 

100, loi ; exertions to save the life of, 
loi ; letter of, to Washington, en the 
mode of his death, 102 ; letters of, to 
friends — drawings of, 103 (ftofe) ; exe- 
cution of, 103-105 ; monument in hon- 
or of, in Westminster Abbey, 106 ; re- 
mains of, removed to the abbey, 106 
(noU) ; place of execution of, marked 
by memorial-stones, 108, 109. 

Andr^ Brook, the, 117. 
Arnold, Benedict, life of, in Philadelphia 
— charges against, 63 ; urges an inves- 



i66 



THE TWO SPIES. 



ligation, 64; treasonable correspond- 
ence of, 64, 65 ; secret correspondence 
of, with Major Andr^—disgoised hand- 
writing of, 65 ; in command at West 
Point, 78 ; tries to meet Andi^ in dis- 
guise, 79 ; plans of, for consummating 
treason, 83, 84 ; meets Andr^ near 
Haverstraw, 83 ; takes Andr^ to 
Smith's house — finishes his bargain 
to betray his country — gives Andr^ 
important papers, 84 ; receives notice 
of the arrest of Andr^, 93 ; hurried in- 
tenriew with his wi fe es capes to the 
FtiUunt — patriotism of his baige crew, 
94 ; attempts to arrest, 96 ; impudent 
letter of, to Washington, loi {n^). 

Arnold, Mrs., distress of, 94 ; Washing- 
ton's kindness to, (;6. 

Austin, Henry, designer of the Hale 
Monument at Coventry, 27. 

B 

Babcock, J. S., poetic tribute of, to the 

memory of Nathan Hale, 29. 
Boothby, Sir Richard, a literary friend 

of Anna Seward, 38. 
Boudinot, Elias, concerning the arrest 

and execution of Andr^, 99. 
British army near New York, condition 

of the, II. 
Buchanan, James, assists in the removal 

of Andre's remains to England, 108. 



Caldwell, Rev. James, 77 (n^). 
Captors of Andr6, 85 ; rewarded, 89. 
Carieton, Governor of Canada, 43. 
Cathcart, Captain, and Miss Eliot, 51 

(fUflt). 

" Cedars, The," and the Widow Chiches- 
ter, 16. 

Chichester, the Widow, and the Tories, 
16. 

Clinton, Sir Henry, 43 ; succeeds Howe, 



46 ; in command of the British 
flight of, across New Jersey — fights at 
Monmouth Court-House, 60 ; head- 
quarters of, at New York, 61, 62, 83 ; 
letter of, to Washington — ^Andr^'s let- 
ter to, loi. 

Court of inquiry in the case of Andrtf, 
loa 

** Cow-Chase, The," a satire by Mijor 
Andr^, 67-78. 

Cunningham, William, character of, 24 
(iM^, 25. 

D 

Darwin, Erasmus, 38. 

De Lancey, Oliver, assists Andr^ in art- 
work — marries Miss Franks 56 (mpJ^). 

Demorest, Rev. John, assists at the dis- 
interment of the remains of Major 
Andr6 — silver cup sent to, by Andre's 
sisters, 108. 

Depew, Chauncey M., oration by, at 
Tarry tOMm, 121. 

D'Estaing, with French fleet, goes to 
Rhode Island, 61. 

Dobb's Ferry, 84 ; conference at, loi. 

Dream, a singular, concerning Andr^ 42* 



Edgeworth, Richard Lovell, marriea 

Honora Sneyd, 38, 41. 
Eliot, Miss, and Captain Cathcart, 51. 



Field, Cyrus W., erects a memorial-stone 
at the place of Andre's execution, 109- 
115 ; proposes to erect a monument in 
memory of Nathan Hale at his own 
expense, 113, 114 ; letter of, on the 
subject, to the New York Historical 
Society, 114 ; contribution of, to the 
Hale monument at Coventry, 114 ; 
generous designs of, for the benefit of 
the Rockland County Historical and 
Forestry Society, 118. 



INDEX. 



167 



Finch, Francis M., poem on Natlian 

Hale by, 29. 
Fort Hale, 28. 

G 

Gibbs, George, epitaph for Hale*8 tomb, 
written by, 84. 

Grey, General, marauding expedition of, 
to New Bedford, 61. 

Greene, General Nathanael, in command 
at Tappoan, proclaims Arnold's trea- 
son, 98. 

** Gnstavus,'* the fictitious name of Ar- 
nold, 61. 

H 

Hale and Andr^, character and motives 
of, iv. . 

Hale, Edward Everett, 4. 

Hale, Enoch, 4. 

Hale, Nathan, childhood and youth of — 
personal appearance and vigor of — en- 
ters Yale College, 4 ; Dr. E. Mnnson's 
recollections of, 5 ; letter of, to Dr. 
Munson, 6 (noU) \ a school-teacher at 
East Haddam and New London, 7 ; 
patriotism of, aroused — speech of, 8 ; 
a volunteer soldier at the siege \>f Bos- 
ton—patriotism displayed — commis- 
sioned captain— daring feat of, at New 
York, 9 ; generosity of— in the battle 
of Long Island and the retreat — ^ill- 
ness of, 10 ; volunteers for the secret 
service, and resists the dissuasions of 
hb friends — ideas of, concerning secret 
service, 14* 15 ; receives instructions 
from Washington — departure of, on 
secret service, 15 ; goes to Long Island 
and enters the British camps in dis- 
guise — methods of, as a spy, 16 ; ar- 
rest of, 17 ; character of, discovered, 
18 ; at General Howe's headquarters 
at the Beekman mansions-confined in 
a green-house, 19 ; interview of, with 
General Howe, 20 ; treatment of, by 



Cunningham, 21, 22 ; last words of, 
23 ; place of execution of, 23 {^U) ; 
execution of — sympathy for — neglect 
of memory of, 24 ; memorials of, 25 * 
monument erected in memory of, 27, 
28 ; poem written concerning, 27-31 ; 
and Andr^ compared, 31 ; proposed 
monument in memory of, at New York 
— statue of, contemplated, 33 ; epitaph 
for tomb of, 34 ; monument to, pro- 
posed, III, 113, 114. 

Hale, Richard and Elisabeth, parents of 
Nathan Hale, 3. 

Hayley, Thomas, an English poet, 38, 

Hamilton, Alexander, 73, 93, 96, 100, 102. 

Harrison, Richard, 73 {mU). 

Hempstead, Stephen, 15. 

Hillhouse, James, a classmate with 
Hale, 7. 

Howe, General William, succeeded by 
Sir Henry Clinton, 46 ; fitt given in 
honor of, 46-59 ; estimate of the char- 
acter of, 59. 

Hull, Lieutenant William, and Nathan 
Hale, 14. 

Huntington, Rev. Dr., fits Hale for col- 
lege, 4. 

Husted, Genenl James, marshal at the 
dedication of the monument at Tarry- 
town, 121. 

Husted, Dr. Sargent C, author of a 
** Memorial Souvenir," 121. 



Irvines, the two, 71 {noU), 

J 

Jameson, Lieutenaut-Colonel, and Major 

Andr^, 90. 
Johnson, Jeremiah, concerning the place 

of Hale's execution, 23. 

K 

Knowlton, Lieutenant-Colonel, and Na- 
than Hale, 13 ; death of, 16 {noU\ 



i68 



THE TWO SPIES. 



Lafayette with Washington at West 
Point, 93. 

I^urance, John, Judge Advocate-Gen- 
eral, loa 

Lawrence, William, 2Z (noti), 

Lee, Charles, and Colonel Hamilton, 73 
(noU). 

Lee, Henry (*' Legion Harry "), 67. 

Lee, James, marks the spot where Andr^ 
was executed, 108, no ; statue of 
Washington in New York, 108 (note), 

Lionian Society of Yale College, 29. 

Livingston, Susannah, 77 (nott), 

M 

Memorial-stone near Tappaan, unveil- 
ing of the, 113 ; description of, and 
inscription upon the, 115 ; what the 
stone commemorates, 116, 117 ; at- 
tempts to destroy the, 1 1^^-119. 

Military execution, method of, 23 {fwte), 

Mischianza, the, description of, by Ma- 
jor Andr^, 46-58 ; criticism of the, 59 ; 
the, deplored, 60. 

Monmouth, battle of, 6a 

Munson, Dr. ^neas, relates hb personal 
recollections of Nathan Hale, 5. 

Monody on Major Andr6, 135. 

Murray, Robert, Washington at house 
of, 12. 

N 

Neutral ground, the, and its inhabit- 
ants, 85. 
New York City, great conflagration at, 20. 



O'Donovan, sculptor, author of a statue 
at Tarrytown, 121. 



Paulding, John, a captor of Andr^, 85-89. 
Philadelphia, British army in, and its de- 
moralization, 45 ; flight of British from 



— ^American troops and Congress en- 
ter, 6a 

R . 

Rajrmond, Heniy J., oration of, at Tar- 
rytown, 31-33. 

Reed, General Joseph, and General Ar- 
nold, 63. . 

Ripley, Eleazar, 21 (nauy 

Robertson, General, and General Greene 
at Dobb's Ferry— bears a letter from 
Arnold to Washington, loi. 

Robinson, Beverly, letter of, 64 ; and' 
Andr^ and Arnold, 79 ; with Andr^ on 
the Vulture, 81 ; letter of, to Wash- 
ington, 95. 

S 

Samson, Ezra, 7. 

Seward, Anna, literary friends of, 38 ; 
biographical sketch of, 125 ; Major 
Andr6's letters to, 152. 

Seward, Rev. Thomas, father of Anna 
Seward, 38. 

Smith, J. H., and Arnold and Andr^ 
82-84. 

Sneyd, Honora, betrothed to Andr^, 40 ; 
marries Richard Lovell Edgeworth, 
and death of, 41. 

Sparks, Dr., on Andr6, 64. 

Spies, character of, defined, iii. 

Sprague, Rev. W. B., 68. 

Stanley, Rev. Arthur Penrhyn, Dean of 
Westminster, visits the place of An- 
dre's execution, no; writes an in- 
scription for a memorial-stone placed 
on the spot — letter to Mr. Whittemore 
concerning the inscription, 112 ; in- 
scription by, 115. 

Stuart's biography of Hale, 28. 



Tallmadge, Benjamin, and Nathan Hale, 
at college, 7 ; pronounces AndrA a 
spy, 90 ; custodian of and frank con- 
versation with Andr6, 98. 



INDEX. 169 

Tappaan, allusion to, in ** The Cow- Watson, J. F., and relics of the Mis- 

Chase," 69 ; Andr6 taken to, 99 ; cAianMa, 48 (ncte), 

Andr^ executed near, 103 ; memorial- Wayne, General Anthony, expedition 

stone near, erected by Mr. Field, 113 ; of, 67. 

indignation meeting at, 119. Webb, Colonel Charles, 9. 

Tarrytown, monument at, 119-121. West Point, surrender of, contemplated, 

Thacher, Dr., on Andre's execution, 105, 67 ; and arranged for, 79, 80. 

106. Wharton, Thomas, house of, the scene 

Tilden, Samuel J./ presides at the dedi- of the MisehianMa^ 46. 

cation of a monument at Tarrytown, Whittemore, Henry, and the Field me- 

121. morial-stone at Tappaan, 111-113. 

U Willard, Solomon, architect of the Bun- 
Union Grammar-School at New London ^«r Hill Monument, 27. 

taught by Hale, 7. Williams, David, a captor of Andr^, 85. 

Williams, Colonel, gives a dinner-party 

V to Sir Henry Clinton, 80. 

Van Wart, Isaac, a captor of Andr^, 85- Windt, John de, 99 (note), 

87* Wood, E. S., sculptor, 34 (ttote). 

Vulture, the, sloop-of-war, bears Andr^ Wright, Ansel, Hale's trusty servant, 15. 

up the Hudson River, 8f. 

y 

w 

Washington asks and receives instruc " Yankee Doodle's Expedition to Rhode 

tions from Congress. II, 12 ; at Mur. IW by Andr<. 61 

ray's house, 12 ; instructions of, for V'^l^^J"* * ~P^^' of KnM, 85. 

obtaining information, 12 ; calls a Yo^^ Duke of. causes the remains of 

council of war-desires a trustworthy ^""^"f ^° ^, removed to England. 106 

man for secret service, 13 ; in con- (?^'-) ' »*"^ * »»'*'^-^* ^^ ^*^- J- 

fcrencc with French officers, 79 ; at ^^^^orest, 108. 

West Point and Arnold's quarters— MoNODY ON Major Andre, 135. 

discovers Arnold's treason — ^kindness ANDEi's letters to Miss Seward, 

to Mrs. Arnold, 96, 97. 152. 



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